An Unexpected Showmance
by Mau5trap
Summary: When Rachel and Quinn sent off their Big Brother audition tapes, neither expected that they would find themselves in a showmance, amongst other unlikely friendships, once entering the game. Rated T, for now.
1. Chapter 1

**Just an idea I came up with. What would the glee cast- mostly Faberry - be like in the Big brother house? This chapter was the result. More to follow, but I don't know how quickly, because Big Bro is a game with lots of components, as those of you who watch it will already know. It's an epic game, with too many stresses. I'd probably have a nervous break down if I went in there, but that's neither here nor there...**

* * *

If you were to have called upon Rachel Berry, or even tapped her shoulder, she wouldn't have twitched. She was focused, her eyes warm yet fiery spheres as they hinged upon the twists and turns that played out across the muted television screen.

For years, this - the TV - was as close as she'd thought she would ever get to being a part of the ruthless reality TV show. But the audition tape that she'd submitted just six months prior - the one that would either see her secure herself a summer long stay in the Big Brother house, or not - had changed all of that.

With rapt attention, she watched the TV screen, which was running an old episode of the renowned reality show. She watched, not from the standpoint of a fan, but from the standpoint of a player; studious and analytical, all whilst hoping that her luck would stretch on just a little further, because she'd gotten this far after all, and today was the deadline.

She would either receive her key into America's most watched house, or she wouldn't. She would either get her shot at the half a million dollar prize money that she so needed, or she wouldn't.

And if she did make it into the house, well... Rachel Berry knew one thing. For her parents' health and emotional wellbeing, she was going to lie, backstab, and cheat her way to that money if it was the last thing that she did, regardless of who was stood in her way.

* * *

With decidedly less cheer than she had exhibited when it had first arrived, Quinn Fabray peered at the gold key that lay on her work desk.

She'd been on cloud nine when the CBS camera crew had - just over an hour ago - shown up at her office, and presented her with the news that she was going to be a houseguest on this year's Big Brother US.

That cloud had quickly darkened though, thanks to her co-workers, who'd had slowly chipped away at her elation with reminders of past Big Brother seasons. The back stabbing, the lies, the betrayals, the paranoia. The underhanded eviction plays. The strenuous emotional and mental taxation.

"Seriously, how hard can it be?" she asked, glancing at Miranda, who halted her fingers amongst the files that scattered her desk, and looked up.

"Do you even watch the show, Quinn? If you're a strong player, they'll vote you out. If you're a weak player, they'll vote you out. If you have a strong social game..." Miranda deadpanned, letting the dry silence speak what had apparently become her mantra. "And that's not even factoring in the twists that they come up with each year."

Quinn's pale forehead pinched, her full red lips briefly running without sound. With unmistakable forlorn, she looked at the key that meant that she'd been selected to be on television for the summer...

"Beth and I," she muttered, her eyes adopting a far off pensiveness as she glanced down into her lap, "we need the money. Even if I could just make a secret final two deal with everyone in the house, and walk away with the fifty-thousand dollar runner-up prize, that'd be enough cash to get us _out_ of here!"

Miranda's gray eyes loosened of their previous cynicism, and she rolled closer to her blonde colleague in her office chair, placing a supportive hand to her knee. "Quinn, honey, I know that you're scared that he'll find you and Beth again. But going into the Big Brother house isn't the answer."

"What, and working this tedious office job for chump change is?" Quinn sniped, tugging her fingers back through the obsessively neat blonde strands that fell from her scalp and swept her shoulders.

Miranda's fingers fell away from the distressed blonde's knee. "Look, I hear you, but -"

Quinn held her hand up. "No buts, Miranda! Beth and I are going to get out of bumblefuck Ohio, and that half a million dollars is our ticket out of here!"

Miranda nodded, almost shrinking under the belligerent determination that radiated from her co-worker's lit hazel eyes. "Alright," she quietly replied, "but have you spoken to Beth about this plan?"

Quinn couldn't help but think of her daughter in that moment - how beautiful she was. What a miracle she was. How she deserved a happy peaceful adolescence, without fear of her lunatic father finding them.

"Beth doesn't need to know anything until that cheque's in my hand. She thinks that I auditioned for the show for mere shits and giggles. She doesn't even know that... I've been selected to go into the house yet."

Miranda raised her thick unkept eyebrows. "Well when do they fly you out?"

"Tomorrow."

* * *

"Clean your room, Noah! And quit leavin' food up there for days on end. Smell's like somebody took a dump in there! Jesus!"

Noah Puckerman closed his bedroom door and pressed his back to it, listening to the his mother's muffled scroll of complaints.

He was sick and tired of this. Being thirty and not knowing what it felt like to own his own space, and pay his own bills, was messing with his head.

He only had himself to blame; he knew that. He knew that his years of fucking up and shunning his responsibilities had caused him to be in this situation.

And he also knew that if he didn't get his shit together soon, he was going to lose all self-respect, along with his already tenuous sanity.

"Noah!"

At the sound of his name, which had been shrieked like it was a matter of life and death, Noah tugged open his bedroom door. "What now, mom?"

"There's a fuckin' camera crew down here with some key, claimin' that you're in the Big Brother house! Now tell me what the fuck's goin' on!"

Noah ruffled his mohawk, his dark eyes misting over with clouded realization, before bulging. "Shit, really?"

"You think I'd make this shit up, with the mood I'm in?"

Without further comment, Noah bounded down the worn creaking staircase, smirking like the cat that had gotten the cream. "Oh the fuck yeah," he purred, pumping his fist in the air. "Big Bro house, here comes Puckzilla."

* * *

Brittany slung her arms around her wife's neck, repeatedly jumping up and down. "San, we're gonna be on Big Brother! We did it, oh-oh, we did it!" she sang, in that goofy child-like way that people loved her for.

Santana chuckled, running her hand down her wife's back. "I know, B. That money's as good as ours," she foretold, smug. "We just gotta play it smart, is all. First up, we gotta fool the other houseguests into believing that we don't know each other. If they think we're working together, we're screwed."

Brittany calmed after a moment, pulling back a little to allow her gleaming blue eyes over her gorgeous wife's face. "Let's have sex."

Santana smirked, tugging her wife that much closer. But other than that, she made no move to undress. She just stood there, holding her ray of sunshine close, and smirking.

"What?" Brittany sort of whined. "We're gonna be on TV for, like, provincial three months."

"Potentially three months," Santana corrected her tall happy-go-lucky wife, always gentle and adept with her tone.

"Can you imagine, like, if they vote us out of the house 'cause we can't stop having sex in there?"

"Nobody's gonna vote us out, Britt-Britt. I'll make sure of it."

"Maybe if we let them watch..."

"Baby, no way is America - or my Abuela - gonna gets to see my sex face. You were right the first time. We gotta fuck ourselves silly before we go into the house. Get it out of our system."

* * *

To many, Jacob Ben Israel was a strange little specimen of a man. Residents in the neighborhood always warned their children away from knocking on his door when it came time for them to sell their homemade cookies.

_That_ kind of strange.

Despite what the residents of Gorgon Street thought, the short little Jewish man was not one to prey upon children, but that said nothing for adult women, from which he'd accumulated countless restraining orders, over the years.

Jacob Ben Israel did not discriminate; he loved to pester women of all kinds. But it was the beautiful blonde-haired bombshells, who possessed legs that dwarfed his own, that were his main weakness.

Of course, none of those women _ever_ looked twice at him.

It was such rejection from women, and his peers, that had dwindled his social interactions over the years, until he'd become a man of mere solitude. A hermit, who only had computers and reality shows with which to invest all time and energy.

And invest all time and energy he did...

For him, Big Brother was undoubtedly the king of all shows. No other TV show had ever wielded such an ability to make his heart gallop as it rooted for the houseguests that he'd garnered a fondness for. No other show had ever wielded the ability to make him bare his teeth and growl at his TV set, or bring his fist down into the sofa cushion.

No other television show had come under his scrutiny like Big Brother had. Jacob had been watching since the show's very first season; he knew all of the components of the game, and consequently, considered himself a master of the game.

Only, this year he was actually going to be playing it...

* * *

There was a dark side to Emma Pillsbury that very few knew about. Her big round honest brown eyes were innocence in physical form - her girly soft-spoken voice the melody of sincerity.

Few looked beyond this harmless, ditzy at times, exterior. However, if they'd cared to, they would have known that she was an almost perfect candidate for the ruthlessness that was required to play the Big Brother game...

Once the camera crew had left her home, Emma made her way to her bedroom. Hooped around her pale finger was her gleaming gold key.

With an almost haunting sparkle in her eye, she watched the golden object sway back and forth. Then she smoothed her soft auburn hair down, and gazed into the closet door mirror, smirking.

* * *

Unlike most people, Sam Evans had never worried about cost. The fact that he'd been born into riches had always meant that the handsome blonde bachelor could pick and choose how he spent his days, based on a criteria of fun and fulfillment, as opposed to obligation.

His quest for new heights of fun had led him to this point - CBS's camera crew recording as he span excited cartwheels and boastful back flips on warm California beach sand.

"Whoohoo!" he wolf-called, coming off of a flip that kicked a playful mist of sand up around his perfect landing. "The other houseguests better watch out, 'cause I'm coming for that Big Brother crown baby," he chuckled, face right up in the camera. "It's gonna be a blast!"

Indeed, Sam wasn't going into the Big Brother house for the money. It was just about doing something different and having fun with it, which he considered to be a huge advantage over those houseguests who would inevitably play too hard, become house targets, and get themselves evicted within the first few weeks.

* * *

Tina Cohen-Chang ran reverent fingertips over her worn copy of _Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway_.

More so than for others, fear had been a constant in the raven-haired Asian woman's life, eventually manifesting itself in a mortifying stutter, which in turn had isolated her even further.

Her relationships had perished, like the slow rot of wood, when she'd consecutively begun to refuse social invites from her friends.

A missed birthday here, a missed graduation party there, and soon enough those friends stopped calling.

It wasn't like she'd ever been the life and soul of the party; she was surprised that they'd bothered with her for so long in the first place.

But then Tina had stumbled upon _Feel The Fear And Do It Anyway_, and now here she was, stood in her lounge, holding her key into the ultimate social game, Big Brother, where she knew that she wasn't going to be able to hide herself away from the world when her insecurities flared up.

"Feel the fear and do it anyway," she whispered.

* * *

Finn's Hudson's jaw dropped, hanging before the four CBS Network cameras that had ambushed him.

"Uhh... hey?" he murmured, lifting his large pale floppy hand in a lackluster wave...

Pattie, his co-worker, nudged him. "I think they want you to say something about how excited you are, Finn," she prompted, leaning around the tall shell-shocked man in the hopes of glimpsing the gold key that lay in his palm.

"Uhh... I'm excited." Following those few words, Finn's face melded around an awkward smile. "Thanks for choosing me?"

Stood beside him, Pattie rolled her eyes. Still she managed a big smile, for the cameras, because someone had to. "Let's hope he lasts more than a week, right America?"

* * *

There had always been something different about Artie Abrams. At the age of five, it had been his love for rap music and snapbacks in a predominantly Caucasian neighborhood.

At the age of twelve, it had been his decision to rock preppy sweater vests with converses and snapbacks.

At age twenty, it was his indomitable will - his refusal to watch his life pass him by from a wheelchair. His refusal to let the car accident that had taken his cousin's life, steal his.

Doctors had said that Artie Abrams would never walk again...

Not only had Artie Abrams found a way to walk again, but he was going into the Big Brother house, with all of its strenuous physical competitions, for a shot at half a million dollars.

* * *

William Schuster was tired of being told that he was too old to participate in certain activities.

His own wife had laughed herself into a puddle of tears when he'd flippantly suggested that he should go into the Big Brother house, and win the half a million dollar prize money, so that they could finally afford to try to get pregnant via an alternative method.

It had all resulted in an argument and an audition tape.

And that audition tape had resulted in...

"I can still hang with the cool kids," Will chuckled in the face of his stunned wife, as he tossed his gold key up in the air, and caught it with a smug smirk.

* * *

**Next, they'll all enter the house and meet for the first time. For those of you who have watched Big Brother, who do you think the alliances will be? Who do you want them to be?**


	2. Chapter 2

**What a lovely response I got for the first chapter. Keep it coming please :) Reposting this because update alerts were not working when I posted it the first time. **

* * *

Leaving Beth behind had thrown Quinn through a loop. Although she knew that her daughter was in very capable hands, she still felt like she'd lost one of her limbs. Thirteen years of no more than a couple days separation, in a small town like Lima, did that to a mother.

The ecstatic teenager had been excited to go and spend the summer with her aunt Frannie, police officer uncle in-law, and cousins, in West Virginia, whilst her mother battled it out on TV for half a million big ones, as she'd put it.

But Quinn was already feeling the pangs of separation.

Despite the undercurrent of melancholy that crackled about the golden flecks of her eyes, a smile fell over Quinn's cheeks, not only because she had an amazing daughter, but because if there was ever a time for her to take drastic measures, in order to rectify their money troubles, it was now, whilst _he _was serving time in a Mexican prison.

He'd be out in two years.

Unaware of the darkness that had suddenly cast its hand over her expression, Quinn glared out over the balcony that protruded from her hotel room, where she was stood in the moon's glow.

By _his _release date, she intended to be long gone, and as sure as her love for her daughter ran deep, she _was _going to be long gone. Free from the lacking opportunities that plagued the small boring city of Lima, Ohio. Free from a life of just managing to scrape by.

Free from _his _grasp; she'd hire bodyguards if pushed to - buy a house with a state of the art security system, because she'd be _able _to, if all went to plan.

America was an enormous place. The world was an enormous place. And it was even bigger when one had money.

Following that thought, Quinn considered the eleven other houseguests that she'd be meeting soon. She thought about how they'd better be ready, because if not, she was going to chew them up and spit them out...

* * *

"Good evening, America. I'm Julie Chen. Welcome to another summer of lies, twists, and grueling competition. Tonight, twelve regular people will enter the Big Brother house and battle it out for half a million dollars." The beautiful Asian host span away from the main camera, and turned on her heel to face the house, a mischievous smile on her lips. "Good evening houseguests," she said.

With suitcases in hand, the twelve houseguests stood on the glass steps before Julie. Though they all acknowledged her greeting with eager response, they couldn't help but allow their eyes to wander over one another; some curious, others sizing up the competition. Some eyeing a potential showmance suitor, like Noah and Sam, for instance. Others anxious, like Tina.

And then there was Rachel, who was completely transfixed upon the elegant golden-haired woman beside her - the one who was wearing the pretty, knee-length, floral dress and white heels.

"Hey, I'm Quinn," the woman suddenly spoke, watching from the corner of her amused eye.

Rachel felt her face flush hot at the realization that this... Quinn had most likely been aware of her slack-jawed gaze all along. The fact that... Quinn could make her feel chagrin, or anything at all, didn't sit too well with the ambitious brunette, who had promised herself that she was going to do away with emotions, because this - Big Brother - was a job. Nothing more.

Nothing less.

So she simply didn't respond, instead choosing to smooth her eyebrow over with her fingertip, because now that Julie had begun to speak to them, she'd grown more aware of the cameramen that were poised at almost every turn.

At the lack of response, Quinn frowned for a moment and returned her full attention to Julie.

"Look around, because the people surrounding you will be your competition for the summer," Julie put out there. "I will instruct you to enter the house in sets of four. The first four who will be granted access to the house are: Finn, Noah, Tina, and Emma."

Finn fumbled with his suitcase, hiked it up from where it was sat on the ground, and pushed the front door to the Big Brother house open, swiftly disappearing inside, followed by the other three whose names had been called.

Santana stood there and watched the houseguests enter the house, one by one. Under normal circumstances, she would have been pissed that she wasn't going to get first pick of the beds. But heavier things weighed on her mind...

Knowing that the first twist of the summer rested, solely, on her and Brittany's shoulders, was weighing heavy on her mind.

As Julie then instructed Artie, Sam, Rachel, and Quinn to enter the house, Santana glanced into that of her wife's knowing yet encouraging blue eyes.

The two women knew what this was going to take, and whilst Santana supposed that it felt good to be in on something that the other houseguests were not privy to, she knew that not being able to kiss and hold her wife until further on in the game, was going to take its toll.

She just hoped that the payoff would be worth it...

"And finally, Will, Jacob, Brittany and Santana; you're free to enter the house," Julie said, waving the four houseguests off as they carted their suitcases past the intimidating front door.

For a moment there was sheer chaos, as the second and third sets of houseguests darted for the bedrooms - some, such as Brittany and Artie, even jumping over the circular red sofa, like excited children let loose.

"I already called dibs on the double bed in the corner!" Noah announced, jumping on it with a turbulent bounce.

"I hate you already," Santana grumbled as she made her way to a single.

Brittany giggled and flung her suitcase onto the bed beside Santana's. She would always find her wife's cantankerous grumbling, for the most part, adorable. "_And... _**sold **to the blonde in the back row," the tall dancer announced once she'd gotten close enough to her bed to touch it.

With much more poise, Will claimed the bed beside the single that was occupied by the quiet redhead. Emma, if he remembered correctly.

From the doorway, Jacob eyed his new roommates. Although he was smiling kindly as he claimed the only remaining bed, he was observing everyone very closely, so that he'd have more chance of figuring out this year's first twist should it involve any of them. He knew the game, and he was here to play it.

"I hope the other bedroom's not better than ours," Santana thought aloud. She'd wanted say whisper her petty fear to Brittany, but it would've looked suspicious and she knew it.

"I've already been in there. It sucks," Noah chimed in, now kicked back on his bed eyeing Santana like he wanted to do obscene things to her, with his dick.

She looked at him.

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She glared. "Am I gonna have to keep my eye on you? I am, aren't I chump?"

Noah bobbed his tongue out at the annoyed exotic beauty, rapidly flickering it up and down in a gesture that was crude enough to make even Brittany kind of mad.

"I don't know your name sir, but wind your tongue back in before I kick your ass," the blonde said, and with a sickly sweet smile that teetered on eerie.

Noah wound his tongue in and held his hands up in a claim of innocence. Last thing he wanted was to piss these people off on the first night, and then be on the first plane back to his shitty life come eviction night. "See? Tongue's gone," he teased, before sealing his lips.

"Thank you," Brittany quipped, good mood restored.

Unable to take the ridiculousness of her fellow houseguests any longer, Emma lowered her gaze and chuckled a quiet lady-like chuckle into her palm.

"I don't know your name either, but thanks for getting the idiot to shut up," Santana tossed her wife's way, as casually as she could.

Brittany just shrugged.

"Come on guys," Will stepped in with an authoritative clap of the hands. "We don't even know each other's names yet and you're already getting into it. Let's go and get the others, pop open the champagne, and introduce ourselves to one another on the sofas," he encouraged, hating that it was so natural for him to step into the mediating father role...

The six houseguests in the other room were settling in much the same way.

Rachel had already had to tell the tall, oafish, pale guy to watch his mouth, after he'd declared, under his breath, that Sam and Artie were fags for joking about sharing the double bed at the far end of the room.

Quinn was already over sharing her sleeping space with these people - the loud brunette, the Ken doll with the wide mouth, the tactless homophobic oaf, the mute girl, and the hip geek. The hazel-eyed blonde knew that her thoughts were a tad harsh, but it was better that they be that way. She couldn't ever let herself forget that these people were not her friends. They, along with the houseguests in the other room, were trying to stop her from getting out of shitty little Lima, Ohio.

No matter what, she _couldn't _allow herself to forget that.

"Shall we make our way to the sofas?" she asked, loud enough to silence the chit-chat in the room. "The others are probably already there."

Rachel shoved her suitcase under her single, and then glanced up at the blonde. She tried not to fall victim to the woman's ridiculously unfair levels of beauty, but it was... quite the challenge. "Sure, I'll go and open the champagne," she answered, since nobody else seemed like they were going to.

"I'll help. You're not gonna be able to pop the cork with those girly arms," Finn chuckled, to which everybody deadpanned.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and took off out of the room.

Both Rachel and Tina rolled their eyes once he was gone. But then followed into the lounge a moment later. Tina, because she really needed some alcohol flowing through her veins, right now. Rachel, because it was time to start forging false friendships for the furtherment of her game.

When Quinn followed out after them, Sam glanced at Artie and blurted, "dude, that is one _beautiful _blonde!"

"It is indeed," Artie co-signed, staring dreamily at the spot where Quinn had last stood.

Shortly after, all houseguests had gathered on the sofa. The champagne had flowed like anything, and now they were on the second bottle.

Once everybody had a glass in hand, Will stood up and gave the host of unfamiliar faces a smile. "I guess I'll start off the introductions," he began.

Noah chose that moment to toss the entirety of his champagne to the back of his throat, before gulping it down rather loudly.

"We'll just wait for this young gentleman to get his throat in check," Will quipped, earning himself a few laughs, including Noah's.

"Come on. We want to know your name, city of residence, occupation, and how many women you've slept with," Noah retorted.

"Seconded," Artie chimed from behind a throaty chortle.

Hard as she tried, Quinn couldn't stop her cheeks from riding up to accommodate her flurrying laughter. The muscular guy with the mohawk had been saying inappropriate things to everybody, and she thought that it was absolutely hilarious.

Will rolled his eyes at the juvenile talk. Perhaps if he just ignored it...

"My name's Will. I'm forty-four, married, and I run the Glee Club at St. Donatair's Private School in Boston, Massachusetts. I'll look forward to a summer spent in your company."

Rachel's ears had piqued at the mention of the Glee Club. Maybe she would have somebody to bore with her passion for musicals after all.

"Who's up next? Which way are we going?" Finn asked, in that deer-in-the headlights fashion that he seemed to have perfected.

"Clockwise," Emma gently piped up, feeling the need to cater to her mild OCD. "We should go... clockwise."

Finn nodded and stood up, ruffling his hair in a brief moment of awkwardness. "I'm Finn, from Green Bay, Wisconsin. I'm twenty-seven, and I work in a rug factory."

He couldn't wait to sit back down, and neither could most of the other houseguests. Wait for him to sit back down, that was.

Santana stood next. "What's up? I'm Santana. I'm twenty-eight, I'm from New York, and I'm a primary school teacher." She smiled for the lie that the houseguests seemed to have bought - that she was this harmless teacher, instead of the smart and ruthless lawyer that she truly was.

Jacob slid his glasses back onto his face after wiping them on his shirt. Then he stood, glass of champagne still in hand. "Greetings everyone." He paused to swallow, playing up his nerves. Playing up the helpless nerd stereotype, in the hopes that some of his fellow houseguests would pity him, and subsequently develop the beginnings of an emotional connection with him. "Excuse my slight anxiety. It must be the stunning women in the room."

Tina blushed, as did Emma. But the women that Jacob had truly been referring to, such as Quinn and Brittany, merely smiled.

"You've got game. I'll give you that," Artie laughed.

"So anyway, I'm Jacob Ben Israel. I live in Phoenix, Arizona, I'm twenty-four, and I'm a graphic designer."

"Graphic designers are hot," Brittany blurted, oblivious to the confused stares that she received as a result.

Jacob tilted his glass at her in a silent toast of sorts.

Soon after, the tall toned blonde sprang to her feet. "'Sup guys. I'm Brittany, I'm fifty-six in soul years, I live in New York, and I teach dance classes. Boom, I'm out."

Jacob was pretty sure that he'd just fallen in love.

On the other side of the sofa, Rachel wasn't quite sure why she'd taken such a liking to the jovial, if not a little strange at times, blonde. But she had.

Sam winked at Brittany as she sat back down, and then he took his stand. "I'm Sam. I live in California, I'm twenty-three, and I surf all day, most days. Oh, and I'm looking for love. That's… it," he declared, swiftly sitting back down.

The next introduction fell upon Tina, who was dreading potentially stuttering. She downed the last of her champagne, and slowly stood. "Hi... I'm Tina, from Chicago." She took a moment to just breathe, before continuing. "I'm twenty-five, and I work from home."

"You need to need to hook me up with a stay at home job when we leave here," Noah said, grinning.

Tina's cheeks flared with heat. "Sure thing."

Without needing to be prompted, Quinn smoothed down her dress and stood. "Hey. I'm Quinn. I'm from Lima, Ohio, I'm twenty-eight, and... I work in data entry."

"Are you kidding me?" Noah frowned, sitting up from where he'd been lounging. "With a face and a body like that, you should be walking runways."

"He's totally right," Sam agreed.

Quinn considered the two men's input, and then responded with a polite, "thanks," before retrieving her spot on the sofa… though their comments were nothing that she hadn't heard before.

As her butt hit the comfortable cushioned material, her eyes met with the doe-eyed brunette that she'd tried to befriend when they'd been stood just outside of the house. There was something very... deep and intriguing about her, Quinn would readily admit that. But she didn't quite know whether or not she disliked her yet.

She guessed that only time would tell...

The redhead of the group then stood. "Hello." She gave the host of faces a quick jovial wave. "I'm Emma. I'm twenty-nine, I'm from Greenwich, Connecticut, and I run a nursery."

_And I smile too much, and speak too softly, and will skin you whilst you sleep_, Santana thought upon the brief quiet.

"Evening everyone. My name is Rachel. I also live in New York," she announced, tilting her head towards the houseguests that had already revealed themselves to be her fellow New Yorkers. "I'm twenty-six, and I work in theatre."

Quinn nodded the information in, not quite sure why she felt as though Rachel had been directing it at her. It wasn't like the woman had looked at her at all during her speech.

Noah took centre stage just moments later. He ran his hand through his mohawk. "My name's Noah, but I mostly just go by Puck. I'm twenty-five, I'm from Colorado, and I own my own construction company. I can't wait to get to know some of you hotties," he teased, hoping to come off as genuine, despite the lies that he'd told about his age and occupation.

Little did he know…

A red flag had instantly shot up in Rachel's head, because there was no way that this guy was only twenty-five. But she'd let him keep purporting to be. She was fine with lies, just as long as she could spot them.

The last of the introductions had fallen to Artie, who stood up and rubbed his palms on his tight Bape jeans. "Hi. My name's Artie. I guess I'm the baby of the house, being twenty and all."

There was a collective, '_awwww_,' which made the young man chuckle to himself. "I live in Washington, DC, and I'm trying to become a paediatric physiotherapist."

"I hear you," Santana praised the boy's ambition.

"That's fantastic," Will also commented, giving the twenty-year-old boy a thumbs up.

Finn gulped, wondering why everybody was congratulating Artie when it had sounded like he'd just said that he was trying to become a pedophile physiotherapist. People were strange...

Out of nowhere, the flat screen television up on the wall, above the big homely fireplace, flickered on, and footage of what was going on just outside of the house filtered in.

All heads jaunted towards the TV, which was now showing clear footage of Julie Chen as she stood on the other side of their front door.

"Hello again, houseguests," Julie began, with that knowing smirk. "Congratulations on getting settled within the house, I see that you've been getting acquainted. But as you know, with Big Brother, you must… expect the unexpected."

The mood in the lounge transformed, immediately, at the sound of those words. Gone were the previous pleasantries. Present were the spikes in heartbeat.

This was it. The game had begun.

"The Head Of Household competition will be held shortly, wherein first Head Of Household will be crowned. But I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't let you know that all... is not what it seems."

Rachel's eyes found Quinn in that moment, and the blonde stared back, though neither knew why they'd locked themselves into such eye contact.

Across from them, Brittany looked at her wife, who briefly returned the glance.

It took Noah's comedic, "shit just got real," to snap everyone out of their sudden wariness.

"For now, you should all get changed into competition attire, and head out to the back garden, where you will find the instructions for your first HOH competition. That's it for now," Julie reported, with a small wave. "Enjoy your night, houseguests."

* * *

**The twist will be revealed, to its full extent, in the next chapter :D**

**Ps:**

**To the guest reviewer, May: Houseguests sometimes lie about their age and or occupation so as to appear less threatening to the other houseguests. It takes smarts and perseverance to become a lawyer, and they are known for being smart, ruthless and duplicitous. Santana doesn't want the houseguests thinking that she is any of those things. She wants them to feel like she's a harmless school teacher, and not a threat so that she won't be targeted by the house. **

**Same goes for the age thing. The longer you have lived, the more experience you have in life. Also, Puck wanted to appear younger and more attractive to the ladies lol.**


	3. Chapter 3

**I hope this isn't too confusing for those who have never watched the show. Longer chapter this time. Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter. It is nice to know that you think this is well-written and interesting.**

**Shout out to JackkilisFaMo, who reviewed both of the previous chapter.s Thanks for taking the time ;)**

**To the guest reviewer, May, I answered your question at the bottom of chapter two :) and LOL at your comment about Finn! Hahaha!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters. I don't own Big Brother either, otherwise I'd be rich enough to make this a movie, instead of making it a lowly fic.**

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This was it. The competition that would set the tone for the rest of the summer...

It wasn't nearly as intimidating as many of the houseguests had thought it would be - two separate large rotating wooden boards, which peaked at the top of steel podiums, and were populated with red balloons that were adorned with the faces of the twelve houseguests.

Quinn gently nudged the warm body beside her; Rachel coincidentally. "Check out Puck's face," the hazel-eyed blonde sniggered, pointing out the picture's cheesy tooth-addled grin.

Rachel merely nodded, but gave nothing else. She was much too busy following the curve of the woman's pale arm, which ended at the bicep, where the short sleeve of the blonde's white t-shirt began.

The white t-shirt that had, **Likes Girls**, printed across it in bold black letters.

Quite different from Rachel's plain green t-shirt, with its silhouette of a kangaroo near the armpit.

"You know, you stare at me a lot," Quinn suddenly murmured, whilst the other houseguests were deciding who was going to read out the instruction card for the competition.

Rachel scoffed and trained her eyes on the apparatus that would determine the first Head Of Household. "We've been in this house for all of two minutes, so I hardly see how you've managed to calculate that I stare at you a lot."

"Look," Quinn sighed, her voice so much harder than it had been moments before, "I'm not sure where your 'tude is coming from. But it's pretty unnecessary. What's your problem?"

She could have easily slipped into teenage Quinn, the one that had ruled the hallways of McKinley High with a stony ice gaze and an iron fist. But she knew that _that _was only going to get her thrown out of the house too soon...

Rachel folded her arms. "I don't have an attitude, or a problem. I was merely highlighting that -"

"What?" Quinn cut in, for the sake of being argumentative.

"We'll... talk once the competition is done."

Quinn bobbed her head in a small nod, curious and a little confused. "You mean you wanna talk game? Or am I in some sort of trouble with you?"

Knowing that it was in her best interest to have as many _friends _as possible in the house, Rachel steered against her better judgement and hummed. "Now who has the attitude? Maybe I just wanted to discuss that t-shirt."

Quinn couldn't be sure that she hadn't just imagined the short brunette's subtle but playful smirk.

The woman was giving her whiplash.

"Listen up guys!" Sam suddenly shouted over the dwindling chit-chat.

With his chiseled pecs and serious six-pack out on display, he was stood, alone, before the eleven other houseguests, with the instructional card in hand. "This competition is called, 'Anger Management,'" he recited. "The aim is to throw a dart at, and pop the balloon with the face of the houseguest that you're competing against in any given round."

"You should enjoy this then," Quinn whispered Rachel's way.

"I'll have you know that I am not an angry person," the brunette shot back.

Quinn chuckled. "I hope I get to throw darts at your face."

"Shhh!" Emma hushed them, from behind.

Both Quinn and Rachel glanced back at the woman. And both Quinn and Rachel felt adequately chastised under the slightly creepy woman's big owlish brown eyes.

Sam had hesitated, and seemed to be waiting for their murmurs to cease.

"Continue," Will prompted.

"You will take throws in pairs. Out of the two competing houseguests, in any given round, the first to successfully pop the balloon with the other's face on it, will advance to the next round. The losing houseguest will be eliminated..." Sam paused at that point, to give his fellow houseguests a comical glare. "However, on the two rotating boards, amongst the red balloons, are green balloons, which contain prizes. If your dart pierces a green balloon, you will collect the prize, but you will have eliminated yourself, meaning that your opponent - by default - will advance to the next round." Sam nodded to himself as the rules of the competition captured a fixed position in his mind. "The first six houseguests to be eliminated will endure a diet of slop for the week, whilst the last six remaining houseguests will enjoy luxury food. And of course, the last remaining houseguest will be crowned the new Head Of Household. The first round of pairs are on the rounds board to your left, which will change as houseguests are eliminated."

"Wow, did you guys catch all of that?" Artie awed, pushing his glasses further up his nose.

"All of it," Jacob boasted. He'd seen similar competitions on previous seasons of the show. "Who's up first?" he chirped, craning his neck to look at the rounds board.

Santana rolled her eyes; the nerdy little graphic designer was annoying her already. She hadn't forgotten how he'd gazed at her wife, Brittany, earlier either...

Being an integral part of this year's first twist meant that she, along with Brittany, would have to throw this competition. But Santana hoped that she'd at least get a chance to eliminate the overly-confident little dweeb. Or that idiot, Puck.

"First up is Will and Tina," Sam declared with an excited grin. "Good luck guys," he told them, as they took their respective lanes, grabbed their darts, and aimed.

Tina was the first to toss her dart. It ricocheted at break-neck speed, wedging itself into the slowly turning wooden board, just inches from the balloon that had Will's face on it. She heard her fellow houseguests, behind her, gasp for how close she'd been, and took herself back to when she was a kid, playing darts out in the garage with her dad.

"Focus," she told herself, as she took another dart from the tray at hand, and brought back her wrist.

Just beside her, Will was taking much more care with his throw. He'd positioned the dart between thumb and index finger, loose but firm in his grip. His board slowly span, edging around until Tina's balloon was within shot.

At the perfect moment, seemingly, he wound his wrist back, and threw the dart. It soared through the air, ending its journey in the loud bang that popped the balloon with Tina's face on it.

Will smiled, wanting to break out and bust a move. But he wasn't an insensitive asshole, and when he glanced over and saw how crestfallen Tina looked, he was grateful for his self-restraint.

There was suddenly a clicking sound that drew all eyes towards the rounds board.

Tina had been eliminated, and Will had advanced.

She made her way over to the bench at the side of the garden, and sat down. She was the first of six houseguests who would be enduring a week of nothing to eat but slop. Great.

"Nice effort, Tina! You were so close!" Artie called through his palms, which he'd cupped around his mouth.

"Yeah, good job," Will offered, accompanying it with a small smile.

"You'll kick ass in the next comp," Puck put in, rubbing the back of his neck.

Quinn glanced at the man; maybe there _was _a nice considerate person in there after all.

"Next up's me and you bro," Sam said, nudging Finn, who looked like he had absolutely **no** idea what was going on.

"Here we go," Santana muttered disdainfully. If she had a nail file right about now, she would have been using it.

Finn quickly raced to the lane that Will had stood in, and Sam headed to Tina's. Both men hurried to grab their darts, the garden eerily quiet…

Sam tossed his dart with moderate force, but it bounced off of the edge of the spinning board, and rolled off in the grass.

Finn looked upon his opponent's failure, and grinned.

Then an idea struck him.

Nowhere in the instructions had it said that houseguests couldn't walk straight up to the balloons and pop them. The tall pale man's crafty grin grew larger as he simply walked the distance to the board, waited for Sam's balloon to spin towards him, and stuck the sharp end of the dart into it.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing? That's cheating!" Puck piped up, pacing back and forth and shaking his head in disgust. "I hate cheaters, dude."

"Me too," Jacob added, not because he was outraged by Finn's infraction. But because he was smart enough to know that people held their morals and values dear, and that people liked you more if you agreed with them.

"It's not a big deal," Rachel chimed in, already bored of Puck's ridiculously high levels of testosterone. "Finn will be disqualified, and that'll be the end of it."

"Seconded," Brittany agreed, from where she was crouched down on the ground, limber and flexible.

Finn merely shrugged at Sam and looked at the rounds board.

Everybody followed his gaze, waiting for that confirming click…

_Click_!

"Hell yeah! That's what you get for cheating!" Puck gloated, once the rounds board had rearranged the names so that Finn had been eliminated and Sam had advanced to the next round.

Finn balled his fists and trudged over to the bench that Tina was sat on. He was a big guy. He needed his meat. He needed his food. As far as he was concerned he hadn't cheated. There was no line that had indicated where he should stand…

Actually, now that he looked…

"I can't believe I have to eat slop for a week," he mumbled, eyes narrowed at the blades of grass beneath his feet.

Though Tina didn't think that she would ever be fond of the man, she felt for him. He was _such_ a big guy.

Sam pumped his fist in the air. He joined a clapping Will on the winner's bench, celebrating his arrival with a loud hi-five.

Puck smirked when he saw that the next round consisted of him versus Quinn. He looked at her. "Looks like we're – whoa, how did I not see that t-shirt before? You just got, like, a million times hotter, and you were already _really_ fucking hot!"

"It was the first shirt I grabbed from my bag," Quinn stoically answered, heading towards one of the lanes.

"But it's still your shirt," Puck said, grinning lewdly as he walked towards the other lane. "So, still _really_ fucking hot!"

"Language!" Emma scolded with an irritated click of the tongue.

Not that Puck was even listening.

Quinn pulled the scrunchie that held her ponytail even tighter, and glared the tan man down. She had to create an air of determination. She had to make it look like she actually wanted to win this competition, when the truth was that… she didn't.

The blonde knew enough about Big Brother to know that the first Head Of Household always became the house's target after making their nominations and having someone sent home the first week. She didn't want that kind of attention. She didn't want the houseguests to know that she was a fierce physical competitor – that she had been Head Cheerleader for years. She didn't want to get _any_ blood on her hands… just yet, and she didn't want anybody coming after her next week because she'd evicted their companion in the house _this_ week.

So she was going to throw the competition, in the hopes that she wouldn't be nominated by whoever it was that was fated to win. If she was, she'd just have to win the Golden Power Of Veto competition, and take herself off of the chopping block.

Somebody else could be the first HOH.

In all truth, she was going to be aiming her dart at one of the green balloons. The one that contained the luxurious prize of twenty-five-thousand dollars…

Selecting her dart, she poised herself to throw it, waiting as the board twirled.

Puck did the same. But he threw his dart before her.

It ended up missing its target, much in the same way as Sam's dart had.

"Fuck," Puck cursed under his breath. "Why'd I have to be the one to pop the hottest chick's face?" he grumbled, selecting another dart from the tray.

Just beside him, Quinn's heart was thrumming beneath the cool calm exterior of her t-shirt. She knew that she couldn't be obvious about throwing the competition. If she failed to be discreet, her fellow houseguests would deem her to be underhand and untrustworthy. They'd think that she was playing the game too hard, deem her a threat, and the target on her back would inevitably grow.

She couldn't have that. So she waited until Puck's balloon came around, pretended to lose her balance, and flung her dart – with all of her might.

By some act of God it struck the green balloon that she had intended it to strike, and a loud bang, followed by a puff of confetti, erupted.

"Fuck!" she grunted, planting her hands on her hips in feigned defeat.

"You just won twenty-five-thousand dollars though! Not too shabby!" Artie tried to placate her, and not just because she was hot. But because the blonde seemed genuinely disappointed.

"He's right. Take the loss like a champ," Brittany added.

"I know, but it's gonna suck, being on slop," Quinn answered, trudging over to the slop bench to sit beside Tina and a sulky Finn. She could handle a week of slop. She'd always thought that she could stand to slim her hips down anyway. Now was her chance to do it. Plus, who'd choose to be on slop? The houseguests wouldn't suspect that she'd thrown the competition in a million years…

However, Rachel was not convinced by the blonde's performance, and neither was Jacob.

But neither said a thing.

The rounds board clicked, showing that Puck had advanced and that Quinn had been eliminated.

"That twenty-five big boys sounds supreme. But at least Puckzilla is still in the game!" Puck hyped himself up, approaching the winner's bench.

"Brittany and Rachel - you're up!" Will declared.

Brittany winked at the brunette that was her competition, knowing that she was about to throw the round in the short woman's favor. "I hope you're ready," she told her as she stood and approached the lane that was closest.

Rachel chuckled, her entire face accentuated by mirth's touch.

"So you _can _smile!" Quinn pointed out. "Who would've thought it?"

"Be quiet, you," Rachel quipped, walking towards her lane to collect her dart. "I need to focus, because some of us actually want to win."

"**Burn**!" Santana sniggered.

Quinn's eyelids flickered with incredulous. But she kept her mouth closed.

"That was definitely a burn," Emma said, gazing at the blonde in pity.

Rachel shrugged a shoulder, and aimed for the balloon with Brittany's face on it. "I was kidding, Quinn. You needn't be offended," she said, hurling the dart.

Before Brittany could even contemplate throwing hers, Rachel's zipped through the air, and made a loud bang of the blonde's defeat.

"Are you kidding me?" Brittany groaned, before shrugging and heading to the slop bench. "What's up with you and the little person?" she asked Quinn, once seated.

It took Quinn a moment to make sense of what she was being asked. "I... don't think she's a little person, Brittany. But, to answer your question, nothing's up. She's..."

"I like your t-shirt," Brittany interrupted, having already received the answer to her previous question...

Santana versus Jacob Ben Israel was a peculiar affair. Neither of them wanted to be on slop. But neither of them wanted to be the Head Of Household either. Jacob, for reasons much too similar to Quinn's. Santana, because she was supposed to throw the competition for the sake of the twist.

In the end it came down to Santana's love for food. She eliminated the stuffy-voiced little dweeb, banished him to the slop bench, and joined the others on the winner's bench.

She'd make certain that she lost in the next round though.

Artie and Emma were the next two houseguests to step up. After Emma's miss, Artie's dart struck the balloon which contained an all-expenses paid holiday in Hawaii, seeing the quiet redhead advance to round two. And seeing him secure the final spot on the slop bench.

Round two kicked into swing moments later.

Will and Sam were the first pair. The houseguests on both benches remained silent, knowing that the two men would really need to focus, because Big Brother had sped up the rotation of the spinning boards, requiring even more skill from the competitors than before.

There were several near misses, with gasps to go along with them. But it was Sam who prevailed in the end.

With a sportsman-like chuckle, Will shook the surfer's hand and went to stand over by the slop bench, which was full by this point.

Puck and Rachel were to compete next.

Now that she was not at risk of being on slop all week, Rachel was prepared to throw the competition. There was another green balloon that contained twenty-five-thousand dollars.

Twenty-five-thousand dollars that she could put towards the medical bills that her fathers were drowning in.

There were darts flying at all angles. They were lucky that the lanes were separated by a column of transparent plastic.

Puck was on his fourth throw when his dart accidentally popped the very balloon that Rachel had been hoping to hit on her own board.

"Hell yeah! Twenty-five big ones!" Puck hollered in celebration, seemingly forgetting that he'd simultaneously eliminated himself from the competition.

Either that or he didn't care.

Rachel's jaw set tight as she internally huffed at her advancement to round three. She didn't want to be the Head Of Household. Not this week - the _first _week. Not when there was a twist - that could do her game more harm than good - looming around the corner.

Julie had said that all was not as it seemed. Wanting to win HOH with that looming over the house was, quite frankly, insane.

Even so, Rachel took out her show smile, dusted it off, and put it on for the houseguests that were singing her congratulations.

The last bout of the second round consisted of Emma versus Santana.

The increased speed of the spinning boards was problematic for both women, though they both had contrasting agendas.

This round wasn't Santana's last opportunity to throw the competition. But she just wanted it over and out of the way, so she poised herself, and threw her dart, hoping that it would pierce the green balloon which contained the trip to Barbados, for two.

It didn't.

Instead, the dart sliced through the balloon which contained a slop pass, for the entire summer.

"Yay!" Emma squealed. "I win!"

"This is bullshit!" Santana complained, though she cunningly smirked inside.

"At least you won't ever have to be on slop for the entire time you're here," Finn grumbled. "I wanna win a slop pass."

"Quit your belly achin', Goliath," Santana quipped, bored.

Quinn muffled her nasal snort with her palm. But with the way that her mirth shook her shoulders, she might as well have laughed out loud.

"Quit laughing," Finn spat, petulant.

Of course, _that _had just caused Quinn's laughter to carry her even further into her fit...

The third and final round saw Sam take on Rachel. Not that she was much competition. The pale muscular young man didn't even give the brunette a chance to throw, before he had popped her balloon.

But she wasn't complaining.

As Sam handstand-walked around the garden in celebration, the other houseguests took note. They took note the blonde's rippling muscular stature, and they took note of the fact that he was one throw away from becoming Head Of Household. They took note, and they all - individually - came to the conclusion that Sam was one to watch out for...

Soon after, he returned to his lane, waited for the spinning boards to reset the balloons, and wished Emma - his final opponent - good luck.

The quiet woman merely smiled at him, which he thought was some kind of intimidation tactic, or something.

When the balloons had reset, the boards that they were attached to began to spin faster than ever, slowing down in intervals in order to confuse both Sam and Emma's aim.

It worked for two whole minutes, darts flying everywhere and missing. Until the wind blew something into Sam's eye, and Emma timed her throw right.

Silver and gold confetti rained down on the entire garden, eliciting giggles and congratulations from the other houseguests.

Emma eyed the people around her as they gathered up piles of the gleaming confetti, and tossed it over one another, like kids out in the snow. She wasn't smiling. In fact, she was wondering who deserved to go up on the chopping block, and leave come Friday...

"Congrats Emma," Sam said, still rubbing the eye that was giving him trouble.

"Thank you Sam."

_Would all houseguests promptly gather on the sofas_, a masculine voice suddenly boomed.

Big Brother's monotone mechanical voice.

Once the houseguests had returned to the house, shrugged out of their competition attire, and gathered on the sofas, the TV screen above the fireplace flickered on for the second time that evening.

Julie appeared on screen again, instantly hushing all conversations in the house.

"Shit, what now?" Puck muttered, receiving a silencing nudge from Emma.

"Hello again, houseguests," Julie began, her face much more serious than it had been the last time that she'd spoken to the house. "First off, congratulations Emma for winning the first HOH competition. You may move your things up to the luxurious HOH room shortly."

"Thank you Julie," Emma said, blushing as she peered up at the screen.

"You're welcome. Now, earlier I told you all to expect the unexpected. I also told you that all is not as it seems..."

"Yeah," a few of the houseguests uttered, urging the beautiful Asian host to continue.

"Well, what if I was to tell you all that there are two people, sitting amongst you at this very moment, who knew each other before they entered the house?"

So casually had Julie dropped the bomb. But none of the houseguests were taking the news lightly. Numerous pairs of eyes darted back and forth, filled with unbridled suspicion.

Rachel sat there, bleeding her memory dry for anything that would reveal the identity of the two people who would undoubtedly be working as a team, against the rest of the houseguests.

Against _her_.

She immediately thought about Quinn. Though she wasn't, at all, sure why.

"Well houseguests, there _are _two people sitting amongst you, who already know each other. In fact, they're married," Julie revealed, smirking.

In that moment, there were gasps - and not just for the obvious reason. Certain houseguests had had a romantic eye on other houseguests. But now that the M word had been dropped...

"M-Married?" Tina stuttered, surveying everybody.

"Nobody's wearing a wedding ring," Quinn added, frowning to herself.

Both Santana and Brittany very stealthily scanned the faces, and ring fingers, of their fellow houseguests, as if curious to know who the impostures were, like everybody else.

"Yes, Tina. Married," Julie replied. "Emma, as you are the Head Of Household, you will nominate two of your fellow houseguests in two days, as normal."

Emma nodded, awaiting the oh so obvious, '_but_,' that was sure to follow.

"But the two houseguests that you select to face eviction **must **be the two who you think are the married couple. If you nominate both of them successfully, then those two houseguests will go up on the block, and one of them _will _be evicted on Friday, as there will be no Power Of Veto competition. However, if you fail to nominate them both, you and a houseguest of the secret couple's joint choosing will go up on the block, subsequently facing eviction on Friday."

Emma's nod was an absent one. She felt, well... screwed, because she had no idea who the secret couple were.

Right then and there, she decided that she would individually call each houseguest up to her HOH room, and interrogate them, just as she always interrogated the children at her nursery when they'd done something wrong, and lied about it.

Quinn ran her hand over her face, putting her brain under immense pressure to figure out who the secret couple were. She, like everyone else, wanted to know so that she could befriend them, and potentially escape their one nomination if Emma failed to successfully nominate them. Or maybe she could figure out who the couple were, make a deal with them, and throw Emma off of the scent, so that the couple would owe her a favor and keep her around in the following weeks.

There were so many options. So many holes to get one's foot caught in...

It was the first night, and the game was already stressing Quinn out. She just hoped that they wouldn't have to cart her out in a straitjacket.

"Come on, married couple. _Reveal_ yourselves," Puck joked, swishing his arms about like he was a wizard casting a spell.

That broke some of the tension in the room - even scored a few laughs. But other than that, the houseguests, bar Brittany and Santana, were riddled with suspicion and paranoia... which was just how Big Brother wanted it.

"Until next time houseguests, enjoy the rest of your night."

With that, the TV screen flickered off...

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**I really hope you liked it.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I know that some of you wanted to see more Faberry interaction. It seems that you were in luck…**

**Thanks to all those who took the time to review the last few chapters. I really appreciate it, as Progpoet knows lol. **

**JackilisFaMo, is it wrong that I am happy to have reduced you to a laughing mess in front of your brother? Lol! Thanks for commenting ;)**

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Emma ran her fingertips over the large oval basket of snacks that sat center of the enormous king-sized bed.

_Her _king-sized bed, now that she was Head Of Household.

The quiet woman glared around the beautiful HOH room - the spacious en suite, the rich burgundy and chrome decor. She even glared at the letter that was neatly folded on her silk pillow. The one that she'd yet to open up and read.

The one that her mother had probably written, aflourish with words of encouragement and praise for her HOH accomplishment.

The snacks, the letter from home, the luxury room, the photos from home - Emma had earned them all, fair and square, through winning the Head Of Household competition.

But she couldn't enjoy a thing - hadn't even called the other houseguests up to listen to her read her letter from home, or see her room, or look at the photos of her cat, Maisey - because there were two rats downstairs, who were lying to her and all of the other houseguests. Two rats who were looking to secure her seat on the chopping block, in order to save themselves.

Two rats that Emma would sniff out, even if it killed her...

She pattered out of the room to the landing, and fastened her stone-white hands around the chrome bar to the balcony that overlooked the lounge and kitchen area downstairs. Her big brown eyes lowered as she peered into the kitchen, where Quinn was sat on the work surface, eating into her first slop sandwich.

"Quinn!" she called.

The blonde downstairs immediately glanced around, her eyes darting up.

Emma's mouth drew into a tight smile as she offered up a small wave.

Quinn smiled back, hoping to ease the tension that she could see knotting the redhead's shoulders. "What can I do for you, Emma?"

"The secret couple - it's you and Rachel isn't it?"

Quinn's jaw stopped churning, her kind smile quickly draining from her cheeks. She blinked, and then frowned up at the other woman. "I'm sorry, but _what_?"

"The married couple. It's you and Rachel, isn't it? The way that she told you to be quiet out in the garden, during the HOH competition, seemed too easy. Too comfortable... Intimate almost. Like she wears the pants in your marriage, and you're the whipped one."

"How did you even come up with..." Quinn's lips fluttered open and closed, only to part again. "Gay marriage isn't even legal in Ohio, and Rachel isn't my type. You're over analyzing the incident in the garden."

Emma's expression grew cold. "So what is your type then, Quinn?" The pale lady-like woman leaned her head to the side, and ran her tongue out over her lips. But that unmoving eerie stare never once twitched or wavered. "Hmm?"

Quinn sincerely hoped, in that moment, that Big Brother had carried out some sort of psychiatric assessment on the strange woman, before giving her the green light to be a part of the show...

Following a few beats of silence, the cautious blonde answered, "whatever my type is, it's not Rachel."

Emma merely stared at her. Or through her; one couldn't be sure.

With a sigh, Quinn dumped the tasteless slop sandwich down on her plate, and dusted the crumbs from her thighs, before giving the HOH her undivided attention. "Look, you're wasting your time accusing me and Rachel of being the secret couple. On the outside world, it's just me and my daughter. My sister's the only one who's married, much to my mother's disappointment, and yours apparently."

"Well... I guess I'll just have to keep my eyes peeled," Emma chuckled, eyes much to bright, tone much too cheery. "I'll be watching."

With those words lingering in the space between them, Emma span on her heel and ushered into the HOH room, slamming the door shut behind her.

"She still pissed about the secret couple thing?" Santana asked, casually waltzing into the kitchen in nothing but a green towel and her mustard-yellow night mask. She headed towards the fridge, pulling it open to allow her gaze over its contents.

Quinn watched small beads of water roll down the latina's caramel arms, and vanish into the dark carpet. Now that she thought about it she, too, could do with a nice hot shower. Letting hot steamy droplets of water pelt her skin was exactly what she would've been doing if she were at home, and Beth would have been in her room listening to some music...

"Earth to blondie," Santana prompted.

Quinn shook her head free of thoughts about her amazing daughter, simply because she knew that she'd end up crying if she didn't. "I was just... thinking about my daughter." She trained her glassy hazel eyes into Santana's back, and tucked a blonde strand behind her ear. "But to answer your question, yes, Emma's still furious about the secret couple thing. She just asked me if it's me and Rachel, actually, which is just..."

Rather abruptly, Santana closed the fridge door, and span around to lean back against it. "Well I wouldn't put it past the two of you. You've been playing the sweet blonde card, and she's shiftier than a sex offender at a nudist beach."

Quinn arched her eyebrow in a fashion that was _anything _but sweet. "Well screw you too. How do I know that _you're _not one half of the secret couple?"

One of those damp caramel-colored shoulders rose to indicate a shrug. "Guess you're just gonna have to take my word for it." The latina nodded towards the gooey abandoned sandwich that lay beside the stoic blonde. "How's the slop?"

"Awful - and I guess that you're just gonna have to take my word for it too."

Santana smirked. "I'm thinking that this whole secret couple thing is more obvious than everyone thinks. Where's the best place to hide something?"

"Out in the open," answered a growing voice. "That's the best place to hide something."

Both Quinn and Santana watched the owner of said voice grab a bottle of water from the cupboard, before leaning her lower back against the plain black work surface. "What were you guys talking about anyway?" Rachel rather bluntly asked, twisting loose the cap from her bottle.

"The secret couple BS," Santana filled the short woman in, accompanying it with a casual wave of the hand. "And you're right. Best place to hide something is out in the open, 'cause nobody's lookin' for it there, which brings me to the grandpa of the house, Will."

When neither Quinn nor Rachel said anything, Santana rolled her eyes. "He already said he's married..."

"You think his other half's in the house too?" Quinn supplied, her cynicism almost palpable.

"Actually, that's not such a mashugana notion," Rachel offered, lifting the mouth of her bottle to her lips.

Santana smirked. "Exactly."

Still not sold, Quinn stretched her arms up and out, listening to the satisfying crack of her joints "Well Emma thinks it's me and you."

Rachel almost choked hastening her bottle down from her lips. Surely her attraction to the gorgeous hazel-eyed woman was not _that _obvious. "What? But..."

"Yeah, she accused me before you came out of the diary room. Said that the way you told me to be quiet, out in the garden earlier, was with such ease indicative of marriage," Quinn added, studying the aghast brunette, who seemed downright offended for reasons that the blonde wasn't sure she'd like.

Was she really that repugnant?

Santana chuckled. Maybe she could have some fun with this. "There's definitely tension with the two of you. For all I know, you _are _the secret couple."

"She and I," Rachel piped up, snappily gesturing her hand between herself and Quinn, "do not have any tension. We've never seen each other in our lives. We're not married!"

"Cool your jets. I was just saying."

"Well I'd appreciate it if you didn't _just say _in future!" Rachel griped, pissed that she had failed to keep her overly emotional nature in check, like she'd promised herself that she would.

No more than a moment later, she stormed out into the back garden, slamming the sliding door shut behind her.

"What a lunatic. But I bet she's good in the sack though, right? After all, _you'd _know wifey."

Quinn didn't even bother to feed the latina's goading. She just raised her middle finger, and let that do the talking instead.

Santana used the silence to mourn for the cuddles that she could have been sharing with her wife...

By twelve-forty five AM, the houseguests had all crawled off into different pockets of the house. Most to sleep and some to socialize, like Artie and Puck, who both seemed to have a boundless tank of energy. Sam and Brittany were goofing around, trying to make slop lasagna in the kitchen area, whilst Santana seethed in her bed, and tried not to go off every time she heard her wife giggle.

Nobody had heard a peep from Emma, but all of the houseguests knew that she'd be watching them from her flat screen TV up in the Head Of Household room. The one that showed twenty-four hour mute footage of every room in the house, except for the toilet.

That left Rachel, who was relaxing in the hot tub out in the garden, and Quinn, who'd thrown on a red bikini in order to join her.

The blonde thought it peculiar that Rachel hadn't opened her eyes upon her entry into the body of warm frothing water. Maybe the brunette was asleep. Quinn decided to test the theory by way of playfully tossing handfuls of the water in the other woman's direction.

"Very mature," Rachel mumbled, though she didn't crack open so much as one eye.

"What was with the epic storm out earlier?"

Rachel sighed, clouds of warmth swirling on the water's surface and up around her face. "Maybe I just don't like being accused of things for which I am not guilty."

Quinn submerged her shoulders further underwater, splaying her arms out across the hot tub's edge and fluttering her feet out, like a swimmer who was going nowhere. "It actually wasn't that big of a deal. They can all think it's us if they want. Emma goes up on the block if she nominates us as the married couple anyway."

"And if the secret couple choose me - or you, even - to go up on the block, alongside her, then what? There's no Veto competition this week. I'd rather Emma successfully nominate the secret couple, and one of them leave Friday."

"Aww. How sweet of you to look out for me. I didn't know you cared."

The moment that Rachel opened her eyes and saw the fifty different shades of sarcasm that dripped from the stunning blonde, she swiftly retorted, "well somebody's got to be the eye candy of the house."

Quinn snorted, which led into one of the huskiest chuckles that Rachel had ever heard.

The brunette internally rolled her eyes, because trust Big Brother to put her dream girl - as far as aesthetics went - in the house with her for the summer.

"So you think I'm eye candy?" Quinn probed, her smirk just shy of a grin.

"Quit fishing for compliments."

"Well you started it!" Quinn quipped, slapping a splash of water at the difficult little woman.

"I entered this hot tub so that I could relax. Not so that you could re-enact your childish fantasies pertaining to splashing people with water."

"Well maybe if you'd just answer the question..."

Another juvenile splash.

Rachel drew her dripping hand out of the water, and plucked a few damp strands of hair from where they had plastered themselves to her wet face... thanks to Quinn's idea of water sports. "You're extremely beautiful. No one in this house, male or female, can hold a candle to you. That a good enough answer for you?"

Now that it was out there, Quinn wasn't too sure how to feel, or react. "I guess," she settled upon.

Rachel scoffed at the lame response. But other than that said nothing.

"So is that why you've been kinda cold with me? Because you're jealous?" Quinn asked, knowing how arrogant that had probably sounded, but also knowing - from past experience - how some women, even the beautiful ones, could get around her. "Not that you're harsh on the eyes or anything like that," she quickly tagged on the end.

Rachel simply chuckled, because the blonde couldn't have gotten any further off base without ending up in another country.

"You know, you're way too cryptic all the time," Quinn pointed out as she made wide lazy swirls in the water with her fingers. "It makes you unapproachable and hard to form a bond with, which will trip you up in a game like this."

"Have you considered that it's just you who feels that way?" Rachel hadn't missed a beat.

"If that _is_ the case, then it's because you've been kind of difficult with me. Take earlier, for example. You offered to make everyone in the lounge a hot cup of cocoa, and didn't bother to ask me, when I was sitting right there." Quinn had made a point not to sound whiny, because she wasn't whining; she could make her own cup of cocoa.

She just wanted the brunette to know that she'd caught the deliberate attempt to exclude her.

"I'm not jealous of you. Far from it," Rachel stated, resolute.

"Then what's the problem?" Quinn challenged her, getting kind of irritated with the other woman's evasive way.

Rachel sighed, and visibly. She was quickly realizing that she wasn't going to be able to play this game with no emotion. She'd never been a robot, always the overly emotional diva. "I'm not jealous. I just think that you're stunning. It almost pains me to look at you, much in the same way that it pains to look directly into the sun."

Quinn frowned, still no clearer on what Rachel was actually getting at. "So..." she urged.

"I find you to be rather attractive, and I didn't want to come in here and be attracted to anybody."

It was out now, free to come back and bite the brunette in the ass, which she was certain that it would...

"So I've been attempting to minimize our interaction," she added, watching several emotions flit through those complex hazel eyes. "It's pretty much why I yelled at Santana earlier, too. I don't like to be so transparent when it pertains to who I'm attracted to, and especially not in a house like this."

"Okay..."

Rachel chuckled. "Relax. Believe me when I tell you that it's not going to be a problem for you. We can still talk, and even work together as far as the game goes if that's what you want; I'm not going to jump you in the shower. You have my word."

Quinn shook her head profusely. "No, t-that's not what... I was thinking."

"Sure you weren't."

Quinn glanced off and shook her head, all kinds of flustered. "They're definitely gonna show this conversation on TV, aren't they?"

Rachel winked her way. "Of course they are."

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**Hope you enjoyed it.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Might I say that you guys are epic? I am quite happy that you guys are enjoying this. I didn't know if anyone would, because most people seem to like my Big Brother more. The UK one, which is much more boring than the US one in my opinion. English folk sitting around bitching about each other behind each other's backs -_-**

**Anyway, thanks for the feedback - even the feedback with the swearing in it LOL. Especially, actually lol. I appreciate it.**

**Edited: What is up with this website? Not getting the email that tells me when I have uploaded a new chapter. I assume you guys aren't getting the notification email either.**

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Long before Rachel, countless souls had harbored an attraction towards Quinn Fabray. Though most had never been as brazen about it as the intense little brunette. Even so, Quinn had always sort of known when she was being watched with lustful intent. Whether it was a jittery new colleague at the office, or the fumbling man behind the desk at the bank, or even her daughter's handsome teacher - which it had been at one time - the blonde had always taken comfort in the fact that she could return home at the end of the day, unwind with a bottle of beer, and get fresh perspective on any given situation.

But being in the Big Brother house, surrounded by eleven other people, twenty-four hours a day, meant that she couldn't do that.

As the morning crawled on, Quinn was growing more and more aware of the fact that she was, in effect, living with someone who was openly taken with her - even sharing the same sleeping space as her! The same toilet, shower area. Kitchen.

It was constant, and since houseguests were not permitted to watch any TV, or leave the house, their only source of entertainment fell to one another, which unfortunately meant that the luxurious sip of solitude that Quinn yearned for, no longer seemed all that likely.

Thus things with Rachel were awkward. At least a little, anyway…

As the hazel-eyed blonde stared off into space, she mused over the times that had seen her unnecessarily delete stuff from her cell phone, in order to avoid having to interact with her fellow human being.

How she missed her beloved cell phone.

"How was your first night's sleep?" Sam suddenly chirped, from where he was hunched over the kitchen counter, slurping from his large cup of coffee, beside her.

Quinn's eyes phased back into focus. Back into the here and now.

She hummed indecision over what she felt her response should be. "It was okay," she settled upon. "I'd love to get back to sleeping in a double though. I have a double at home that's lumpier than this slop, but at least my body still has the freedom to make all the shapes that it wants to, you know?"

"I do know. You know, you can - like - bunk with me in the double if you want. I-I promise not to try anything."

Sam's voice was a little hoarse, still laden with the webs of slumber that he'd not long awoken from, Quinn noticed. And his stark blue eyes still hadn't shaken that first-thing-in-the-morning haze. Then there was his short blonde spiky hair, which Quinn had to guess had been flattened at a weird angle thanks to his sleep position. Thanks to his body making shapes.

Indeed, as Quinn sat and scooped pained spoonfuls of slop past her lips, she took note of even the small things about the man, so that she didn't have to take note of other things. Like how Rachel was just a meter away in the lounge, watching them as she effortlessly executed each of her yoga poses, which was more than could be said for Artie and Tina, who were both baring teeth in grimace as they trembled in their stances.

Steering her mind back to Sam's fumbling yet kind-hearted offer, Quinn forced down another gooey throatful of the lumpy Oatmeal-like substance, and traced her fingertips along the fruit bowl's chrome rim. "Thanks for the offer, Sam. But I have a thirteen-year-old daughter, who I'm sure is watching, and I don't think that I'd be setting a very good example if I just jumped into bed with a guy on the second day. A guy who she most likely already has a crush on, by the way." She was sure to ease the man's clear disappointment with a playful smile.

Sam nodded, putting out an empty chuckle as he smoothed his hair down at the top. "I get that - the setting a good example thing. I bet you're a great - you must be fantastic. As a mom, I mean..."

The muscular surfer frowned at his own incoherence, the fine fair hairs that populated the back of his neck set alive by the jitters that Quinn effortlessly seemed to reduce him to.

Maybe he just needed more coffee. "Anyone want a cup of coffee?" he called out, dismounting his stool and heading for the Espresso machine.

"No thanks," Quinn politely declined. "But earlier Puck said that he'd love one. After he gets done thrashing Finn on the pool table out back, that is."

"Can I get one please?" Artie jumped at the chance. He'd never been a big coffee drinker. But _anything _to escape Rachel's strenuous yoga lesson.

Sam smiled. "Sure, _Artimus_. Coming right up. I'll just take Puck's out to him."

"Very much appreciated," Artie chirped. "You wanna knock a few balls around the pool table once Puck and Finn finish their game?"

"Of course. But dude, you're gonna have to bring your A-game."

"You know it."

"You know, Artie, you're not fooling anyone," Rachel chuckled, eyeing the boy knowingly. "Now get back here and finish up your yoga lesson, like Tina here."

"_Drat_! It seems that the great Artimus has been found out," Artie goofed, accompanying it with an over-exaggerated - to the point that it was comical - click of the tongue. "Seriously though, Rachel; with such the gift of insight, you've probably already gleaned who the secret couple is, if it isn't you and someone else that is." The young man's eyes grew narrow from behind the glasses that rested across his nose. But in the most playful fashion.

Even so, Rachel wasn't taking any chances. "I'm not a part of the secret couple, nor have I yet figured out who is," she assured him, as she kept straight sturdy legs and bent so that her palms hovered just inches from the floor. "And I am _certainly_ not married. I proposed to my last girlfriend, after six years, and was succinctly rebuffed. **Never **again!" she vowed, as though the events that she'd spoken of were, to this day, lingering sour within her mouth.

"I'm... sorry to hear that, Rachel," Quinn offered, backing her sentiments up with a small consoling smile.

"Yeah, I'm sorry to hear that too," Artie, Sam, and Tina followed up, though not all at once.

Rachel merely shrugged, shook her wrists out, and walked off.

The brunette's abrupt exit brought a frown to Tina's forehead. "Maybe one of us should... go and see if she's... o-okay."

Quinn wasn't dense. She knew that, 'one of us,' somehow meant her. "I don't know, Tina. Maybe she just wants a few minutes to herself."

"Maybe," Tina quietly muttered...

Letting loose a quiet sigh, Quinn pushed her bowl of slop as far away as it would go without toppling over onto the kitchen tile. The unspeakable substance was gag-worthy enough in a bowl, much less all over the floor. "Okay," she acquiesced begrudgingly. "I guess... I'll go talk to her then."

When Tina instantly perked up, the blonde was forced to wonder whether or not Rachel had said something to her about last night's hot tub conversation.

It didn't take Quinn long to find the brunette. There was something about the shorter woman's energy that expounded out, pushing against all things within reach. So when Quinn had pushed on the door to the cabana room, she hadn't at all been surprised when she found Rachel sat with her back against the wall, on the wide, built-in, bed-like seat, surrounded by a plethora of clownishly over-sized gold cushions.

The blonde glanced around the cozy little room, with its many mirrors, and relaxed lighting.

It seemed as though she'd found her spot to retreat to.

"Are you okay, Rachel?" she asked from the doorway.

"So you're actually speaking to me now?" came the brunette's curt response.

So curt, in fact, that it served to slice some of the tension, and put an amused glint in the blonde's eye.

"I spoke to you just now in the living area, before you walked out," Quinn replied, in that calm and rational - almost patronizing - voice that all of her ex's had detested.

"After ignoring me all morning."

Quinn entered the homely room and closed the door in behind her, lingering by it for a moment, before deciding to just bite the bullet by joining the other woman on the seat - or bed. She wasn't sure what the contraption was; just that she liked it.

She lay back fully into its comfort, peering up at the brunette. "I wasn't ignoring you. I've just been feeling a little... stifled."

Rachel's jaw seized tight as every person who'd ever called her clingy sprang to mind. "How dare you?" she spat, curling her legs up underneath her body. Away from Quinn. "Do not make out as though I've been acting all Fatal Attraction with you, because we both know that I haven't. Don't flatter yourself."

Quinn chuckled softly. "Would you just calm down for a second? God, and I thought **I **was sensitive."

"Not helping!"

"I just had no idea how difficult living with eleven other people would be," Quinn explained. "We had quite an intense conversation last night. In the outside world I can always go home at the end of the day, and process stuff. It's hard to do that in this house."

Rachel remained silent. She'd known that telling Quinn how she felt would come back to bite her in the ass. If anything, she was mad at herself.

"Quit being a grump, and say something," Quinn prompted, slowly walking her pale fingers across the cushioned seat, towards the brunette's knee.

"I'm not being a grump. This is the exact reason why I absolutely did **not** want to come into this house and be attracted to someone. Instead of putting our heads together so that we can figure out the identity of the secret couple, and secure our own safety within the house, we're squabbling about _this_! I should never have said anything."

"You're the one who's squabbling. I'm not," Quinn clarified, firm in her words and in her gaze. "I'm glad you told me what you told me last night. It cleared a few things up." She eased a smile up at the other woman, and needlessly pressed a fingertip to her knee. "I'm glad you told me," she repeated, allowing it to settle into the quiet. "I don't know; it's actually..." The blonde shrugged. "Kinda flattering, and a little sweet when you think about it."

Even as she rolled her eyes, Rachel couldn't help but allow a twitch of a smile. "We really need to get our heads back in the game," she said. "All of this should be irrelevant. It **is **irrelevant."

"Though I whole-heartedly agree that we need to get our heads in the game, and keep them there, _this _isn't irrelevant if it has an impact on how we co-exist in the house," Quinn pointed out, suddenly so serious. "I'm just finding our budding... friendship a little awkward because we're living together. If someone hits on me, in the outside world, I don't normally have to share a toilet with them afterward."

The silent brunette wasn't quite sure that she altogether understood what Quinn was getting at. There seemed to be meaning hidden beneath the obvious.

But when Quinn smiled and winked her way, Rachel felt as though she was grasping it. "First off, I did not hit on you. Once again, don't flatter yourself. I just told you that I think you're beautiful, and that I'm reluctantly attracted to you. There's a stark difference."

Quinn's cheeks slowly hiked up around a grin, her top lip riding up to reveal both rows of her perfect white teeth.

"And secondly," Rachel drawled, owning a tiny smirk of her own, "I promise not to go into the toilet after you've used it, if you promise not to go into the toilet after I've used it. Besides, that slop that you've been eating smells bad enough going in, much less coming out." She stuck her small well-kept hand out, an almost business-like air about her. "Let's shake on it."

Even if she'd wanted to, there was no way that Quinn could've clasped Rachel's hand and shook it, because she could just about breath, thanks to the laughter that had folded her up and knotted the muscles in her stomach.

Rachel watched the beautiful woman unravel beside her, small tears sprouting from the corners of those exquisite hazel eyes. "It really wasn't that funny, Quinn. Your sense of humor is much too basic. We must arrange some sort of an upgrade."

"Screw you," the tickled blonde just about managed.

As the laughter in the room gradually settled, Rachel grabbed a cushion and hugged it to her chest, because she needed _something_ to shield her from this woman's merciless cuteness.

Upstairs in the HOH room, Emma watched on from the comfort of her bed. Though she hadn't heard a word of what either woman had said, she had eyes. In fact, the lack of sound seemed to add a deeper level of insight into both Quinn and Rachel's body language. The coy looks, the unnecessary contact, the laughter.

The unmistakable ease.

She'd already interrogated Finn about whether or not he was one half of the secret couple, to which he'd just stared at her vacantly in-between eyeing her snack basket. There were ten more houseguests to go through, and she _would _interrogate each and every one of them. Meticulously at that.

But as she peered up at the TV screen, and scrutinized the ease with which Quinn and Rachel interacted, Emma couldn't help but feel like she'd already caught her two rats...

Little did she know that if she were to skip on over to footage of the next room, she would have witnessed a true married couple, who were caught up in the throes of an argument.

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**I hope you liked it.**


	6. Chapter 6

**LikeNobodysWatch, you have the wrong fic. But thanks for the immense love!**

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Brittany sighed heavily, fidgeting with her long slender fingers as her wife fumed before her.

"It's shitty enough - not being able to acknowledge you as my wife to these assholes," Santana quietly seethed. "And then to hear you giggling with surfer Mcfishlips last night..." The latina shook her head to herself, lips drawn tight and thin as her eyes hardened.

For a moment, Brittany kept her silence. Then she decided to speak. "You know I don't care about Sam. So what's this really about? Is it the whole thing about me being bisexual again?"

Once the question reached Santana's ears, she deadpanned. Not out of an effort to be rude, but because after all these years with the blonde, it still astounded her when her wife was so insightful. It both astounded and frightened her.

Brittany's bisexuality had always been a source of anxiety within their marriage. Back home, when the two women would snuggle up in front of the TV, and a hot guy would pop up on the screen, tension would always swell in the room. An unspoken tension that would hold the two women apart, regardless of how closely they snuggled. Regardless of the fact that they would continue to chuckle at all of the movie's funny parts.

Brittany had learned that if she thought a guy was hot, she shouldn't say anything.

"Well is it? About me being bisexual?" she pressed her wife.

Santana glanced at the door, which was open a small crack. "We shouldn't even be talking about this, B," she whispered, a certain softness now accompanying her tone. A certain guilt. "That creepy weirdo's upstairs stalking everyone. Nobody's seen us talk, and I want to keep it that way."

Brittany shrugged. "So what? It's not like she can hear us. Just pretend that you're tryna find something to wear, and we're just in the same room casually chit-chatting. People who don't know each other get to know each other through casual chit-chat." She shrugged again.

Santana sighed, but waddled over to her suitcase anyway. Her hair was still stringy and damp from her shower. She wrapped it in a quick bun, and dug for the clothing that she wanted to wear.

"And stop avoiding my question, San."

"Yeah, it is about you being bisexual!" Santana suddenly snapped, her hand halting amongst her clothes as she looked up at her wife. "There's this part of you that I don't understand! So when I hear you giggling with a supposedly hot guy, I go crazy because I don't know what you're thinking!"

Brittany's sad blue eyes found her duvet. "I'm thinking that I love my wife, and that she's the only one who matters," she quietly mumbled. "I only hung out with Sam last night because he seems like fun, we're both blonde, and people will think that we like each other, instead of thinking that me and you are the secret couple. We talked about this before coming into the house. Remember?"

Santana closed her eyes, as if to lock off her sight, for a moment, would reset everything. "I know, Britt. But it just - it fucking sucks."

"What? That you didn't manage to bag yourself a real lesbian?" Brittany murmured, all kinds of dejected. All kinds of bitter.

"I didn't say that, B."

Brittany swallowed down her grimace, and scooted down off of her bed. She held her chin high as she gathered up her suitcase.

"W-What are you doing?"

"Screw this. I'm moving to Emma's old bed," the tall blonde answered, affording the latina not one shred of eye contact. She crouched down and pushed the heavy suitcase the small distance. "Because it seems like you need some space," she added, once situated on her new bed.

"Are you kidding me? Last thing we need is more God damn space! Now please, B..." Santana's shoulders sagged, her voice suddenly shrinking as she said, "j-just move your stuff back over here. I already miss you as it is."

"No."

That word, with its defiant one syllable, hung between them for four or five beats. It did something to the latina.

"Well when Emma nominates the wrong two people as the secret couple, we're putting Sam, your little boyfriend, up on the block," she spat spitefully. "How about that?"

"Good luck with getting me to co-sign on that," Brittany said, standing her ground. Folding her arms for good measure.

"_Surfer Mcfishlips_ is the reason we're arguing right now -"

"No, _you're _the reason we're arguing, Santana!" Brittany raised her voice, pouting as she did so.

She felt nothing for Sam, yet her wife seemed to think otherwise, and _that _was why they were arguing.

"Keep your voice down!" Santana whispered, darting panicked eyes towards the door.

Brittany, who had steeled her stark blue eyes upon her wife, wasn't so bothered. "We're not nominating Sam."

"I want him gone!" Santana was adamant as she slung a pair of shorts across the room rather petulantly. What she really wanted was to pop Sam's pecs, and kick him in the balls.

But this was Big Brother. Evicting him was as good as it was ever going to get.

"He's way too strong a player, Britt. He's physically powerful, a-and he doesn't even need the prize money. I overheard him telling Will how much money his family already has, last night. Then there's the fact that everyone seems to like him so far, which means he has a strong social game," the latina rationalized, holding up each finger to count the ways in which the man was a dire threat. "He almost won the first HOH competition, _and _-

"If we put Sam up against Emma, everyone's gonna vote Emma out," Brittany highlighted, having noticed that the blonde surfer was much more popular in the house than the redhead was. "Then when Big Bro tell everyone that we're the secret couple, Sam's still gonna be here to come after us next week, 'cause we put him on the block. You want him out 'cause you're being a jealous unicorn right now. Not because it would be a good game move."

Santana knew that her wife was right. But she still wanted Sam out of the house, and she was going to do everything within her power to make it happen.

"Whoever we choose needs to for sure go home, or we're screwed next week if they win HOH," Brittany further added, picking at a fraying thread in her new pillow.

Santana stood there, rummaging through her mind for a scenario that would ensure that she got what she wanted. Then it hit her. "Well if I start to spread shit around the house about Sam, everyone's gonna turn on him. Maybe we can rally enough votes to where Emma will stay and he'll go. I think I can probably rally Quinn's vote..." She paused for a moment, a look of sneakiness finding a home within her dark eyes. "Rachel too, 'cause she's a sharp one. She'll see the benefit of voting him out early in the game. Including ours, that's already four out of ten votes. We just need two more. Pretty sure I can make a few deals with people to get those two votes."

Brittany huffed an over it sigh. "This is pointless. I already told you I'm not agreeing to put Sam up."

"Yeah, 'cause you wanna fuck him!" Santana grunted, without missing a beat.

"You're really starting to piss me off, San. Like, _seriously _starting to. I'm gonna leave before you say something else you'll regret."

With that, Brittany got down off of the bed and walked out of the bedroom, leaving her wife stood there feeling ridiculous.

And not only was Santana feeling ridiculous because she'd acted a plum fool and upset her Britt-Britt. But also because both of their families were watching the show this year, and they too would witness her acting a plum fool and upsetting her Britt-Britt.

Already, she could feel her abuela's thunderous palm crashing upside her head.

Out in the garden, Jacob Ben Israel was sat on the patio deck's L-shaped sofas, sun glaring down on his skin as he watched the boys play pool. He'd never regarded pool as all that interesting, and watching Artie and Sam play was doing nothing at all to change that outlook.

But Jacob knew that appearing as though he one of the boys was a crucial element to his game. Especially if what he was about to propose was going to be a success...

"Where are all the girls at? Aint this the type of weather that usually sees 'em out here in their bikinis?" Puck complained, before tossing the remainder of his coffee back with a loud gulp.

Finn's body almost short-circuited, twitching strangely as images of Rachel in a skimpy bikini entered his mind.

Chuckling toothily, Puck nudged both Sam and Artie, and inclined his eyes towards Finn's fucked up expression. He wasn't sure whether to call an ambulance or mock the shit out of the pale man.

That was until he decided that mocking the shit out of the pale man would be the most amusing option. "Whoa dude, you gettin' hard over there or somethin'? Don't forget that your mom's gonna be watchin'."

Artie sniggered as he blasted his cue against the ball.

Finn's cheeks flamed a deep chagrin. "W-What? No!" the tall man stammered, bringing a hand down over the zipper of his jeans. "Just... Rachel in a bikini sounds... kinda dreamy."

"Dreamy or wet dreamy?" Puck teased. "I saw her getting into the hot tub last night. She's one hot babe, that's for sure. Chiseled abs that I'd like to lick my baby-making man sauce off of and everything."

Sam quit fighting it and folded over the corner of the pool table in laughter, his cue just shy of nudging him in the balls. "Dude, you're _so _gross!" he rasped in-between outbreaks of mirth.

Remembering the incident with Rachel earlier, Artie frowned. "Well I'm sorry to break it to you, guys. But I don't think that Rachel dates our species."

"What?" Puck asked, all traces of laughter gone. "That's _so _hot."

"She said something earlier that makes me think she's gay. I think she might like Quinn actually," Artie speculated. "She stares at her a lot."

"Don't we all?" Sam retorted, expelling an unworthy sigh. "Quinn's, like, the girl you'd wanna take home to your mom."

"He's right. We all wanna take her home and introduce her to our mothers. Even you Puck," Jacob decided to inject himself into the conversation. That way, it wouldn't so much seem like he'd given in-depth thought to the proposition that he was about to make.

Puck didn't refute the accusation that Jacob has put upon him. He just stared at Finn, whose cheeks were still aflame. But seemingly enough, for a different reason. "You're kinda quiet up there, big boy," he poked, ever the pot stirrer.

"What is it with fags these days?" the tall flustered man suddenly exploded. "They're fucking everywhere! I'm going inside! Rachel needs to know that she can't just go around leading men on!"

Artie arched an eyebrow, Puck placed a firm hand to Finn's chest, and Sam watched on, ready to spring into action if need be.

"Rachel's done nothing but glare at you. Didn't she yell at you for using the word fag last night? Your bigoted attitude is disgusting, dude," Sam broke the tense silence. "Gay people are just the same as straight people. My mom's gay." He shrugged his muscular shoulders. "So what?"

Finn slapped Puck's hand away from his chest, and glared Sam down. "That doesn't even make sense! If your mom was a fag, you wouldn't be here!"

Down by his thighs, Sam felt his fists tighten.

Was this Finn guy for real?

He slung his pool cue to the ground, sending it rolling off of the beige patio decking and into the artificial grass. "I'm not even making a secret of it, dude; if I win HOH next week, I'm putting you up on the block, and you're going home. That's a promise."

The threat hung in the air for a moment, before Puck said, "And if you think we're gonna let you go in there and get all up in a woman's face, over some bullshit, you're twisted."

Knowing that he was outnumbered, Finn deflated, pushed past Puck, and disappeared into the house, slamming the sliding door shut behind him.

With the alleviation of the dumb ass's presence, Artie snapped his tongue, muttering, "what a grade-A douche," under his breath.

Still rather riled up, Sam headed into the house to make sure that Rachel wasn't having to endure the likes of Finn's breath, all up in her face.

Jacob saw his opportunity, and struck. "How does everyone feel about a secret all male alliance?" he asked, sipping his drink as though the suggestion was merely an afterthought.

"Uh..." Puck scratched the back of his head whilst mulling it over. "Sounds cool. Who'd be in it though? 'Cause I'm not aligning myself with Finnpotent. The guy's a natural born jackass, and I'm gonna vote his ass out as soon as the opportunity arrives. I hope Sam's gone inside to headbutt him."

Jacob's lips elongated with a sly grin. "Essentially, it would be me, you, Sam. Artie, you too if you want in. We can bring Will in on it too. But I haven't yet figured him out well enough to know if he'd be open to the idea."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Artie agreed, careful with how he hung his pool cue back up on the wall. "There's something really honest and fair about Will, which I'd usually love about a person on the outside world. But those characteristics aren't always all that useful in this game. Anyways, count me in."

Jacob simply smirked, and if it had been appropriate to rub his scheming little hands together, in that moment, he would have.

"I'll talk to Sam about this secret all male alliance shindig when he gets back out here," said Puck, totally sold on the idea. "We're gonna have to come up with a killer name for our faction though."

"You betcha," Jacob purred, satisfied with the fact that he'd aligned himself with the two most physically strong competitors in the house, Sam and Puck. Ideally, they would do all of the heavy lifting, Artie would gather house information and relay it back, and he would be the brains of the operation.

It was perfect.

Inside of the house, however - particularly in the living area - things were not going so well...

"Lead you on? Not if you were the last man - and I use that term _very_ loosely - on earth. This has got to be some sort of a prank," Rachel scoffed up at the oafish man who'd barreled into the house, stood over her, and thrown the wild accusation.

"You've been smiling at me, and like a whore, you got dressed when I was in the room!"

Quinn, who was in the kitchen starting dinner up for the houseguests who were permitted to eat normal food, span around just in time to see Sam step in-between Finn and the petite yet fiery brunette. She watched, feeling the swelling potential for things to get nasty. She'd only known Rachel for a day and a bit, but it was already clear to her that the shorter woman was a true New Yorker, and didn't take any shit whatsoever.

Having seen enough, the blonde dried her hands with a paper towel, tossed it in the bin, and then made her way over to the escalating altercation.

"Hey! Come on Finn! Back off!" she scolded 'Goliath,' before glancing at a furious Rachel. "I leave you alone for five minutes," she jested, attempting to ease the annoyed brunette. Even if just a little.

Not that it worked.

"This _oaf_!" Rachel spat, chest heaving up and down with unbridled irritation, "seems to think that I've been leading him on, because I'm gay and I spare him a pained smile every now and then, if only to keep from verbally annihilating him!" She looked away from Quinn, and returned the full ferocity of her glare to the presumptuous idiot in front of her. "We share a bedroom, asshole! If I have to get dressed, I have to get dressed! Half the time, I don't even notice that you're there! Simply because you're such an insignificant waste of flesh!" she yelled.

Finn bulked up aggressively, and lifted his foot to step forward. But he was met with a firm enough push back from both Quinn and Sam.

So Finn settled for pointing a threatening finger at the mouthy little brunette instead. "You led me on, and the whole time you were gay!"

"Why don't you just go to your room little man? Unless you wanna keep this up, and make yourself an even bigger house target," Sam chimed, with an antagonizing wink.

Quinn was stood there in shock. It was only day two and she'd had to get physical with someone, in order to protect someone else. But even more startling was that Finn had somehow managed to work out that Rachel had led him on, which was just... Well, it was just fucking ridiculous now, wasn't it?

In that moment, Emma seemed to just appear at the top of the stairs. "Rachel?" the redhead called, drawing all eyes to herself. "Would you mind coming up to my room for a little chat?"

Despite the unmistakable darkness in the woman's overly cheery tone, Rachel's shoulders relaxed a little, because _anything _was better than Finn and his awful breath. She threw one last glare at the ridiculously stupid man. "Steer clear of me from now on!"

It hadn't been a question.

Quinn placed her hands on her hips and sighed as she watched Rachel climb the spiraling staircase. Although this particular incident hadn't been Rachel's fault, the blonde knew that she was going to have to have a word with the brunette about her blow-ups and storm-outs. One too many, and the house would deem her unbearable to live with, and then they'd collude to have her - and those who she was aligned, or friends, with - evicted.

Quinn knew that if her unofficial two-person alliance with Rachel was going to work, then they had to be on the same page.


	7. Chapter 7

**I just want to say a quick thanks for the support. It seems that you all loathe Finn lol!**

**To Jo, I do have a lot of the story planned. Not all yet though. And you don't have to worry. If anything does happen, the most that will happen is that updates will come slower.**

* * *

"Which one's mine?" Santana gruffed, as she eyed the plates of hot steaming food that were splayed about the kitchen counter.

Stood at the sink, scrubbing a saucepan clean, Quinn glanced over her shoulder at the tight-faced latina. She frowned. But asked no questions.

She couldn't help but wonder what the hell was up with everybody today.

"Uh... Just give me a second. Take a seat at the dining table. I'll serve up shortly."

"I'm not _eating _at the _table_," Santana snapped, tugging open the fridge door and snatching the peach and passion fruit juice. "I don't do that shit at home, and I'm not about to start now. So, once again, which plate's mine?"

From the dining table, Brittany watched her ornery wife closely, which didn't go unnoticed by Puck, who was also seated at the table, ready to tuck into the dinner that had filled the space with its stomach rumbling aroma. He watched Brittany eye Santana, and like the stars were aligned, he suddenly remembered that the blue-eyed blonde had threatened to kick his ass when he'd crudely flickered his tongue at Santana last night...

He couldn't help but wonder if maybe _they _were the mysterious secret couple. If her t-shirt collection was any indication, Quinn was into tits and pink. Rachel was a confirmed gay. What was to stop both Brittany and Santana from being gay too?

It would sure make this season of the show the gayest yet...

Out of nowhere, Finn stood up and stormed off into the bedroom, the turbulence setting his bowl of half-eaten slop into a rattle against the table's wood.

"I hate that dude. Like seriously," Sam commented, his eyes wearing a vitriol that most of the other houseguests had not thought the happy-go-lucky man capable of. "He has no right to still be mad. No right to be mad at all, actually."

Sat next to him, Artie nodded.

"Although I wasn't present when the incident took place I plan to speak to him, and let him know that his behavior towards Rachel was not acceptable," Will spoke up, gazing staunch disapproval up at one of the cameras as he said, "I would've at least thought that _Big Brother _would have stepped in, or called Finn to the diary room. I'll be talking to them about that too."

Puck grinned and drummed his knife and fork against the table. "Thanks dad."

Will blanched. He could already hear the echoes of his wife's laughter.

Back in the kitchen area, Quinn felt the stirrings of anger in the pit of her stomach. She'd spent the entire afternoon cooking for those that could eat luxury food, and unlike the polite murmurs of gratitude that everybody else had issued, Santana was being a rude bitch about it.

"Which plate's yours?" the blonde snarkily repeated the rude demand, as if in need of clarification when she clearly wasn't. "Well, none of them if you keep talking to me like I'm a piece of shit. Go and wait at the table, like everyone else."

"I love it when the sweet blonde facade fades, and the claws come out," Santana whispered over Quinn's shoulder, hot and breathy. Seductive almost. "Just know that I'm not buying your bullshit little Betty Crocker act."

Quinn tensed up, because the nuisance behind her was skating much too close to the truth - that she had cooked for the house, and planned to continue on doing so, in order to secure herself as a house staple, and win the unshakable fondness of her fellow houseguests, so that they'd be less inclined to vote her out if the opportunity ever arose.

It was a strategy that many houseguests before her had employed, and it was effective, even if it was, evidently, a little transparent.

But either way, she wasn't about to back down to Santana.

"Trust me, you haven't seen _anything _of my claws just yet," the blonde retorted, whilst casually slotting a few soapy utensils into the drying rack.

"Yeah? Well I hope that they're nice and sharp, doll face. You're gonna need them to claw at the floor boards as I kick your ass out of this house!" Santana hissed, projecting the anger that her argument with her wife had accumulated within her.

All she wanted was to sit down and talk things out with B - maybe buy her a few packs of her favorite candy, along with some flowers, and then seal the reunion with some make-up sex.

But she couldn't do that. She couldn't do any of that in this fucking house!

"What? Nothing to say?" she goaded, needing to make Quinn feel the same frustration that plagued her.

"I have no idea what your sudden issue with me is. But all I have to say is game on, Santana," Quinn responded, sort of blasé about it, so as not to let the latina know that she'd pissed her off, because she had a very funny feeling that _that _was the shorter woman's only goal.

By now, the closeness of the two women had drawn the attention of the other houseguests who were still sat, waiting, at the circular dining table.

Brittany recognized the scene very well. She had to keep pretending to clear her throat every time her mouth lost track of the fact that she couldn't scold her wife for whatever obscenities she was surely spouting in Quinn's ear.

"What's going on over there?" Artie teased, chuckling.

When Santana span and pierced him with her dark gaze, he knew that he'd fucked up.

"And what's it to you?" the latina confronted the now blushing man, though her tone had been anything but confrontational. It had been friendly, yet tinged with an unmistakable snark.

She sipped from her glassful of peach and passion fruit juice, stirred it with a straw, and waited for the twenty-year-old to say something... so that she could tear into him.

Brittany began to bounce her knee beneath the table. Maybe she'd be able to keep her mouth shut if she bounced her knee up and down.

"Santana..." Artie began, trying to tread as lightly as possible. "It was supposed to be a joke. Maybe you should calm down."

Santana drained the last of her juice, carelessly tossed the glass in the swimming sink, and vindictively purred, "like I'm really gonna take advice from a guy whose glasses are so thick, he probably sees in six dimensions instead of three."

"Santana!" Will scolded, though the timbre of it was more disappointed and aghast than anything else.

"What? _It was supposed to be a joke._ Maybe _you _guys should calm down." The moody latina tossed her straw in the trash, and headed for the bedroom.

Brittany sighed, her knee bouncing faster than ever...

Quinn, who'd just dried her hands off, face-palmed. She couldn't believe that she was missing out on spending time with her daughter, to be with the erratic likes of Santana.

As she took off towards the staircase to inform Rachel and Emma that dinner was ready, she reminded herself of why she'd sent that audition tape in, in the first place. For the half a million dollar prize money.

_"This is Big Brother_!"

Quinn's steady gait slowed at the ominous bass in Big Brother's voice, soon halting altogether.

"_Earlier this afternoon, Tina was called to the diary room to answer a series of questions to gauge how well she's gotten to know her fellow_ _houseguests thus far_."

Eight pairs of bewildered eyes glided towards the quiet Asian woman, who shrank into her shoulders and acquired a bashful glow.

"_After having several real life events described to her, she then had to correctly guess which houseguest each experience belonged to. Tina scored six out of ten, and has earned all houseguests, excluding Finn, a steady supply of alcohol for the night. The alcohol is now available for collection in the storage room. Will Finn now come to the diary room!_"

A beautifying smile touched Quinn's cheeks, despite the fact that her heart was still racing with the anticipatory anxiety of what Big Brother had been about to announce. She'd been craving a beer all day.

"**Fuck **yeah!" Puck suddenly exclaimed, winding his arm around Tina's timid shoulders and squeezing much much too tightly. "I could kiss you!"

"Please don't," Tina croaked, half chuckling, half trying to breathe within Puck's, for lack of a better term, choke hold.

Jacob began to clap. "Nice work Tina!"

Still smarting from Santana's jibe, Artie adjusted his glasses and issued a sullen, "yeah, thanks Tina. I'll go get the booze from the storage room." He stood from his chair, trudged past Quinn, and vanished down the wide hallway.

Once done staring after his wounded friend, Sam managed a wink in Tina's direction. "Good job. Seems like we're _all _gonna need a drink with how today's going. But at least Big Brother finally seem to be punishing Finn."

Disentangling herself from Puck's over enthusiastic hold, Tina smiled at the handsome surfer. She couldn't believe that such a hot guy had just winked at her.

In that moment she held her chin a little higher, feeling proud of herself for passing the secret diary room task.

"Fantastic job, Tina! But what real life events did they tell you?" Will asked around a frown.

He knew that he was a nice guy and that there weren't many skeletons in his closet. But even so, he wasn't sure that he was comfortable with a stranger knowing about a personal life event that he hadn't chosen to disclose.

Tina shrugged. "N-Nothing too... e-e-embarrassing."

_"Will Finn come to the diary room immediately_!" Big Brother repeated, a touch more demanding this time.

That was the point at which Quinn jogged upstairs, and rattled her knuckles against the HOH room door.

She heard the muffled voices beyond it cease instantly.

Then...

"Come in!"

The blonde took a gentle hand to the door, pushing it open just a crack. Enough to where she could poke her head into the room non-intrusively. Right away, her warm hazel eyes found Rachel, who was sitting in the armchair in the corner of the luxurious room, whilst Emma was sat on the edge of the enormous bed, facing her.

"Uh, hey," Quinn murmured, a little awkwardly. "Just letting you guys know that dinner's ready. I'm about serve up. I'd get downstairs fast though, because I can't see the first round of alcohol lasting too long."

Rachel smirked at the stunning woman. "Thank you for cooking dinner." She winked. "I've always appreciated a woman who'll whip up a meal for me, _and _serve it."

In response to the sheer startle that Rachel's bold flirtatious tone had brought about within her, Quinn's lips ran without sound for a moment, before they murmured, "... you're welcome."

Emma's eyes darted between the women with rapt interest. The energy between them was absolutely undeniable, she reaffirmed with herself. Rachel had even sort of flirted with the blonde.

They **had **to be the secret couple. No other scenario seemed to fit.

"Anywho, I'll be down in a few moments - and also, would you congratulate Tina for me, and thank her on my behalf for winning us the alcohol?" Rachel requested.

"Of course."

When Quinn merely lingered in the doorway, not saying a thing, Emma cleared her throat. "Thank you, Quinn. Be sure to close the door on your way out."

"Sure. See you downstairs." With those parting words, Quinn's head disappeared and the door gently swept shut.

"There really was no need to be so rude to her just then. She cooked dinner for all of us. I'd think that you'd show a little more gratitude!"

"Aha!" Emma suddenly blurted, making Rachel jump a little and frown. "That very reaction, coupled with the looks that the two of you just exchanged, makes me think you're the secret couple! The game's up, Rachel. You can't deny it anymore. Just... admit it."

Internally, Rachel was singing and dancing, because the overly analytical redhead had taken in her flirtatious demeanor towards Quinn and run with it, which was precisely what she'd wanted.

Outwardly, however, the brunette had conjured up a mind-blowingly flawless facade of huffiness.

_Everything _was going to have run flawlessly if her plan to get Finn evicted, this week, was going to work.

"Oh for God sake, Emma!" she snapped, slipping even further into her role, as if on stage before thousands, "Quinn and I are not married!" She huffed and jumped to her feet. "I have listened to your incorrect theories regarding why _I'm _married to someone that I'm **not **married to! I have also answered your intrusive questions regarding my last _five _relationships, for which many of the details are much too hazy for me to accurately relay! Now, I'm going downstairs to enjoy my dinner! You can do whatever it is that you wish to!"

Upon Rachel's swift exit, Emma lay back on her bed and smirked.

She was now more certain than ever...

With the exclusion of Finn and Santana, the houseguests began to eat and drink around the dining table in relative quiet.

Fifteen minutes had passed and still, Finn was in the diary room. For the most part, the houseguests found themselves speculating over whether or not the tall clueless man would be ejected from the house as a consequence of his previous behavior.

Rachel cooed around the delicious food along with everybody else. But when it came to everyone's insistence upon the notion that Big Brother should eject Finn from the house, she couldn't say that she was on board. And for the simple fact that she was determined to see Finn evicted by _her _hand. Not Big Brother's. She wanted the stupid man to walk out of the house, sit down for his brief interview with Julie, and watch back the footage of how she'd schemed to orchestrate his demise.

Hopefully Big Brother would just give him a formal warning, and then toss him back into the lion's den... with her.

"What are you over there smirking about? Are you tipsy already? You lightweight."

The suave honey-roasted voice that belonged to the woman beside her, coaxed Rachel from her own mind. She blinked, though her satisfied glow lingered. "What are you doing tonight, Quinn? Anything interesting?" she chirped, before merrily scooping some of the chive and garlic mashed potato into her mouth.

"Well, I'd planned to rob a convenience store, and walk my pet elephant. But other than that..."

"Hmmm. And what are you doing after that, Quinn?"

Quinn chuckled that husky chuckle and drained the last of her beer.

"What's funny?" _Besides the fact that I find the way that you drink beer to be incredibly_ _appealing_, Rachel mused.

"You seem to like saying my name an awful lot, _Rachel_."

"Well that's because your name sucks, and I find myself needing to say it over and over again, because I simply cannot believe that anybody would brand their child with it."

"Good thing it's just my middle name, and not my real name then, isn't it?"

Rachel froze, her jaw dropping quite theatrically. "What's your real name?" she shrieked, as if she should have been informed about this sooner.

Quinn wrinkled her nose, grimaced, and then squeaked, "Lucy."

"Lucy?" Rachel blinked as she tried to make the name... fit with the woman's unjust beauty.

Somehow it didn't quite live up.

"Yes." The blonde nodded. "But I loathe it, which is why I go by Quinn. Comprende?"

Emma scoffed over her empty plate and swirled her blood red wine around her glass. Did these two women really think that she was buying their little performance? Whilst she conversed with Will and all of the other houseguests that she could care less about, she could barely contain her eagerness regarding the upcoming nominations ceremony.

She couldn't wait to nominate Quinn and Rachel, and watch their faces transform once they learned that she hadn't fallen for their paper thin little act.

Soon after, Quinn took it upon herself to gather up a few of the dirty dishes and put them in the warm soapy sink water to let them soak.

In the midst of staring over at the domesticated blonde, Rachel felt a gentle nudge in her side.

"Stop gazing at her, dude. You don't wanna creep her out," Puck advised, though there was something distinctly jesting about his tone. "What's up with you two anyway? I know you wanna bang."

Sam, who was within earshot and pretending that he wasn't, released a hushed snigger.

"You are _so _crude!" Rachel gasped.

Puck wriggled his thick dark eyebrows. "See? Now keep callin' me names and I won't help you get her."

The petite brunette scoffed, sending a reprimanding elbow into Sam's shoulder when he broke into another snigger. "I don't want, nor do I need help, thank you very much." She chugged back her white wine, and set the glass down on the table with an exclamating thud. "Quinn and I are becoming friends. That's it. And before you say it, no, we're not the secret couple."

"I wasn't gonna say that, babe. I genuinely think you guys just met... and wanna bang."

Rachel rolled her eyes, and placed a soothing hand to her satisfied stomach.

That was when Sam decided to officially enter himself into the conversation. "I hate to say it. But I actually think that Quinn's, like, straight."

"I don't," Brittany suddenly interjected, shrugging.

Despite the alcohol in her system, Rachel was still aware that it was necessary to keep her cards close to her chest. So she cautiously asked, "and what causes you to say that?"

"I have a sixth sense for these things."

"Spooky," Puck purred. "But she owns a t-shirt that professes her love for the puss; a sixth sense isn't really needed."

"Noah!" Rachel snapped, "tone the crudeness down!"

"Puckzilla only has one setting."

"I think Quinn's open to anything," Brittany chimed, so casual about it. "Rachel," she began, "why don't you just ask her?"

Sam's eyebrows lifted, because that was actually a pretty good idea. Simple, direct, and effective.

"I will," Rachel decided, issuing an equally decisive nod of the head. "But only because we're learning one another. Not because I want anything more than friendship from her."

Puck, Sam, and Brittany all collectively scoffed.

Just then, Finn shuffled out of the diary room with his head bowed.

An immediate quiet fell over the dining table, the air thick with anticipation as the tall pale man trudged his way over to Rachel.

He planted his feet, standing over her in a manner that was much less threatening than it had been earlier. "I just... wanted to say sorry. For yelling at you," he mumbled.

"And the homophobic slurs?" Rachel coaxed, looking to make this difficult for the ignorant man.

Finn's face paled and then tightened. "I don't believe in... homosexuality. It's wrong," he gritted out.

Everybody at the table face-palmed.

But Rachel calmly nodded her understanding. "Whilst you're more than entitled to your opinions, I do not ever want to hear such bigotry from you again. Keep your ignorance and vitriol to yourself. Now please remove yourself from my space."

Like a small boy - around the age of five - Finn nodded and skulked away, head hung.

Quinn almost wanted to clap from where she was stood in the kitchen, loading left over dinner into the refrigerator.

Indeed, Rachel most certainly did not take any shit.

"What were we talking about before?" Sam asked, eager to move on from Finn's pathetic apology.

It was too late for butchered apologies and puppy dog eyes. The damage had been done.

* * *

"I've been meaning to thank you for stepping in with the whole Finn incident," Rachel whispered, unsure as to whether or not Quinn wanted to be alone.

It seemed as though she wanted to be alone. She was gently swaying in the hammock, bottle of beer in hand, perfect porcelain eyelids closed. Night breeze pattering over her cheeks.

"Would you like to be alone?" Rachel decided to just ask.

Quinn seemed to clear her throat, and then her eyelids lifted to reveal intricate spellbinding hazel eyes. "I was just dozing. You're okay to stick around," she husked, still swaying from side to side.

Rachel didn't think that she would ever again see or hear anything as beautiful as how the blonde looked and sounded in that moment.

She was forced to clear her own throat as she carefully sat down on the artificial grass, beside the hammock.

"And you're welcome, by the way. Anybody would've stepped in," Quinn said, projecting a warm - if not a little lazy - smile down at the other woman. "Nice night clothes too."

Rachel spluttered out a note of playful affront and glanced down at her _Charmed_ night shirt, which was sporting quite the sensual print of Alyssa Milano on the front. "I figured that it was the only way that I was ever going to get Alyssa Milano to sleep with me," she chuckled.

Quinn snorted, fizzling into a gentle melodic giggle.

"Do you like it?" the brunette teased, stroking her fingers down her front.

"I love it," Quinn chuckled, hardly able to believe how ridiculous this conversation was. "She looks very... pretty."

"Alyssa says thank you."

When their mirth fluttered away with the breeze, there was a beat of silence, wherein Rachel gulped from her bottle of Smirnoff Ice.

For liquid courage? Perhaps.

She could stand on stage before thousands and belt out classics. But Quinn seemed to be turning her into a prized pussy.

Or rather, getting ready to ask Quinn about her sexual orientation, seemed to be turning her into a prized pussy...

"Does Emma still think we're the secret couple after your talk?" the blonde suddenly asked.

The question threw Rachel at first, before she kicked her mind back into game mode.._. where it should have been in the first place_, she chided herself. "Yes. She was already convinced when I went up to her room. So I just went along with it."

Quinn frowned. "How come? I thought you said that -"

"Well after my run in with the giant, today, I've decided that I want him gone," Rachel answered, frank. "I may have figured out a way to make it happen."

Quinn hummed, all ears. "Explain."

"If you're the secret couple, you're going to want to put someone up who is guaranteed to leave, so that there's no rebuttal the following week, right?"

"Uh huh..."

"Who is public enemy number one in the house right now?"

"Finn."

"Exactly. The secret couple aren't going to want to ruffle any feathers," Rachel pointed out, adamant. "It makes sense that they'd choose Finn to go up on the block, because the whole house is guaranteed to vote him out. Everyone will be glad to see the back of him, and the secret couple can sit pretty, with no blood on their hands..."

"So that's why you were flirting with me in front of Emma upstairs," Quinn stated, more for her own clarification than anything else. "To cement her inkling that we're the secret couple, so that she'll nominate us and go up on the block against Finn."

Rachel grinned, her cheeks rosy with the amount of alcohol that she'd had. "Precisely."

The brunette may have been a little loud and dramatic every now and then, but Quinn was happy that she'd aligned herself with such an alert and flexible mind. "You know, you kind of make me feel blonde with your big smart brain," she uttered into the quiet vast garden.

"And you make me feel average. So I guess we'll call it even," Rachel quipped.

"You're not average."

Rachel rolled her eyes jovially, her cheeks suddenly ablaze. "I know that I'm not... unattractive, even after years of being told the exact opposite by my high school peers. But saying that, even Alyssa Milano is average stood next to you."

Quinn's eyebrow arched, because she really didn't think herself worthy of the dangerously tall pedestal that Rachel seemed to be putting her on. "You clearly haven't seen me without make-up, if you think that," she responded after a few moments. "And your high school peers didn't know what they were talking about. Bunch of assholes, clearly."

"I saw you without make-up this morning, when you were ignoring me. You were still painfully beautiful."

A hand came down and slapped the brunette's shoulder in playful reproach. "I already told you that I wasn't ignoring you," Quinn giggled.

"Hmmm," Rachel hummed flirtatiously. "I'm still deliberating over whether to believe you or not."

"I give up," Quinn joked, lifting her beer to her lips for a long swig. She then swallowed the fizzy liquid and said, "this plan to get Finn evicted - it's risky. The secret couple might not put him up. They could choose any one of us."

Rachel nodded, accepting the blonde's point as valid, because it was _very _valid. "I know, but Finn has made their decision easy. The secret couple have nothing to lose and everything to gain if they put him up. The whole house wants him gone. It's smart to keep the house happy so early in the game."

"Hmm." Quinn bit her bottom lip pensively. "Still risky."

"The secret couple have been smart enough to keep their connection a secret thus far, so they'll be smart enough to recognize that Finn is their safest and smartest choice," Rachel explained. "But enough game talk!" she merrily announced. "Tell me about yourself. I want to know the interesting things, and the downright boring."

A chortle shook the relaxed blonde's frame, causing the hammock to sway a little wilder. "Sounds an awful lot like you're trying to maneuver this interaction into a date-like situation, to me," she teased, falling apart completely when the brunette petulantly claimed...

"I hate you."

"Evidently not."

"I'm going to evict you the first chance I get!"

"I doubt it. But Santana might," Quinn tossed out.

Rachel shed her artificial huffiness immediately, and made a face that screamed, 'Explain!'

"Well, when you were upstairs talking to Emma this afternoon, Santana kinda cornered me in the kitchen, demanding her dinner."

A frown pinched Rachel's forehead.

"I didn't respond well to her attitude, and then she told me that she was going to kick my ass out of the house. She was pretty much just an all-around bitch to everybody who so much as looked her way."

"Double-you, tee, eff?" Rachel asked, completely at a loss as far as theories that would explain Santana's behavior went. "We're going to have to monitor that."

Quinn waved her hand through the air, dismissive of the other woman's palpable caution. "I'm not afraid of Santana."

And she wasn't. She'd chewed girls like Santana up, and ate them for breakfast during her high school days. If the serpent-like beauty wanted a war, well... she'd gotten it.

* * *

**Yay for Alyssa Milano, because who didn't have a crush on her back in the Charmed days? ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

**JackilisFaMo, I hope that this chapter goes some way to improve your week ;) I even managed to work some Faberry progress in as a result of your request. So thanks a lot for the idea :)**

**And thanks to everyone else for their input :)**

**On with the chapter...**

* * *

The third day in the Big Brother house had begun well. Almost too well.

Like a postcard picture, the sun had risen overhead and glared down into the back garden, where Rachel, Quinn, and Tina sunbathed on their towels and speculated about what the show's viewers most likely thought of them.

Puck had finally gotten to see some hot chicks strut around and sunbathe in bikinis, and Sam had swiftly agreed to be a part of Jacob's proposed all male alliance - even coming up with the name, 'The Gruesome Foursome,' before sealing the deal with a cheesy fist bump.

Given the fact that the nominations ceremony would be taking place the very next day, things in the Big Brother house had indeed been rather relaxed.

For a while...

Until Puck decided to sneak up on Quinn, scoop her up from her towel, and bomb-dive into the pool, that is.

It wasn't that the twenty-eight-year-old blonde had cursed him out for taking her by surprise, and getting her wet. No. The problem, at least for Rachel, was that Quinn had laughed her vocal chords hoarse when the wild child-like man had hiked her up over his shoulder and splayed his large tan hands all over her butt, abs, and lower back, as he'd repeatedly dunked her underwater.

And now Quinn was quite happily chasing him around the pool, seeking retribution for the sneak attack.

"I'm going to get you eventually, Puck. So you might as well just come here and take your punishment like a man," she advised him, stalking him down in all of her dripping wet glory, like a Goddess.

"**Never**!" Puck hollered around a diabolical laugh.

Having seen enough, Rachel lay her head back flat to the ground, and tilted her dark shades back down over her eyes.

"Do you wanna...go inside a-and do the yoga l-lesson?" Tina knowingly asked over the not too far off commotion.

Rachel sighed. But shook her head. "Maybe later."

Tina nodded, and tried not to let the tension seep too deep into her psyche. After all, she had no bills to pay, the sun was kissing her skin with its warm glow, and she was in the Big Brother house...

A small slip from Puck, soon after, had meant that Quinn had caught him.

She shoved the squealing man into the pool, and dived in straight after him, only to re-emerge from the water, moments later, with his soaking wet swimming trunks in hand - waving them around like a victory flag. "That'll teach you to fuck with me," she chuckled, husky and deep.

Puck bobbed up and down in the body of clear blue water, his hands firmly cupped around his... man junk. "Sam!" he called, needing back up at this point.

Not that the surfer, who'd gone upstairs with Jacob to play chess on the landing, answered.

Rachel sighed, much lengthier this time. She tried to tell herself that she was annoyed because Quinn and Puck were keeping so much noise. But she knew herself well enough to know that _that _was utter bullshit.

"Gimme my trunks!" Puck squealed, rather comedically. "Or I'll get outta this pool and hug you. And by hug you, I mean that my dick will brush up against your thigh, and you'll like it." Following the threat was the man's wolf-like grin, which caused Quinn to laugh as she paraded around the garden with his trunks.

"Quinn, just give them back to him!" Rachel suddenly snapped, sitting up.

"Nope. He's gonna take his punishment like a man. That's if he even is a man. Guess we're all about to find out," Quinn chortled, oblivious to the brunette's sharp tone. She tossed the trunks to the grass, and stood over them with her hands poised on her spectacularly appealing hips. "Come and get them, Puck. America wants to see what you're _working _with."

"**Never**!" Puck hollered, now swimming back and forth rebelliously.

Tina couldn't help her snigger. If she sat up on her elbows just right, she could see Puck's bare ass beneath the water's surface.

That was the point at which Rachel gathered her things, stood, and headed inside of the house.

She found herself at the diary room door, repeatedly bashing the button that was built into the wall beside it.

The patio door suddenly slid open, and footsteps soon pattered in behind her.

"Rachel?"

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, Quinn. I'm fine," Rachel replied, tapping the button a few more times. Urgent.

The blonde had now caught up. She was stood in her wet lilac bikini, toweling off her dripping neck as she eyed the shorter woman, like she was a puzzle that she couldn't figure out.

"Really, Quinn; everything's fine. Promise." Rachel even managed to conjure up a convincing smile.

When the button finally lit up with a green glow, she pushed open the door, ushered into the box-like room, and slung herself down into the only piece of furniture that occupied the tiny space. The luxurious diary room chair.

There she sat, gathering her bearings.

"_Why have you come to the diary room, Rachel_?" Big Brother asked, marking the silence.

The brunette blew a gust of breath up at her hair and curled her feet underneath her body. "I'm just finding things a little challenging," she said, bobbing her head towards the door that led back into the house, "out there. I thought that it would be wise to come here and just... take five."

"_Why do you feel the need to take five_?"

"You ask too many questions, Big Brother," she told the almost robotic American voice.

"_Big Brother has noticed that you have become friends with Quinn. Are you happy with the direction that your friendship has taken thus far_?"

Rachel, in spite of herself, chuckled. "You guys think you're so slick, don't you? Funny how whenever I refuse to answer your coy little questions, you just get straight to the point."

Silence followed, and to the point that the brunette felt her resolve to keep quiet crumbling...

Once it became clear that Big Brother wasn't going to respond, she rolled her eyes. "I told Quinn that my attraction towards her wasn't going to be a problem for her. I really don't want it to be. She owes me nothing."

"_What makes you say that_?" Big Brother immediately responded.

Though Rachel was aware of the millions that would watch this diary room clip, she felt safe to be vulnerable in the small space, where only she and Big Brother seemed to exist. "I'm fully cognizant of the fact that it has only been three days. But... I really _really _enjoy Quinn's company," she murmured, peering down at the chair's uninteresting leather armrest. "At this point, I guess there's sort of no denying that I would like to perhaps pursue a little more than friendship with her. But I don't know if she's into women - and what's to say that she'd go for me, even if she were?"

"_What brought you out of your denial_?" Big Brother asked, and Rachel could've sworn that she'd heard a few muffled giggles from behind the scenes.

"I hope you guys aren't poking fun at my predicament."

"_Big Brother takes all matters very seriously_."

"Sure you do," Rachel quipped sarcastically.

"_Big Brother takes all matters very seriously_."

"I just... I wasn't particularly fond of the way that Puck grabbed her out in the garden just now," Rachel admitted, seemingly to her lap. "He had his hands in some very questionable positions. Not that Quinn seemed to have a problem with it. In fact, she rather seemed to enjoy it, and I-I know that I shouldn't be jealous - that I have no grounds to be. I _know _that! But I... can't really help it, which makes me feel incredibly frustrated with myself."

...

"_Big Brother suggests that you talk to Quinn, and discuss how you're feeling_."

Rachel scoffed at the offered solution, and shook her head resolutely. "I'm not going to discuss how I'm feeling with her. Surely the disclosure of such information will just make her feel awkward. She should be free to do as she wishes, without the need to tiptoe around my feelings." The brunette sighed, clicking her tongue. "I wasn't supposed to feel anything for anybody in here. It all feels a tidbit masochistic - being in this house with her twenty-four-hours a day. Aligning myself with her. Sharing a bedroom with her. It seems that there's no escape. Perhaps a little space would serve us both..."

"_You can always ask one of your fellow houseguests from the other bedroom to swap with you_," Big Brother suggested.

"Hmm," Rachel hummed, tapping her chin absently. "Maybe I will..."

Quinn was still perplexed.

She'd returned to the garden to get Tina's perspective on Rachel's abrupt need to flee.

"Hey Tina?" she began, scooting down next to the sunbathing woman. "What's up with Rachel?"

Puck, who'd long since slipped back into his swimming trunks, overheard the question. He actually couldn't believe how dense Quinn was.

"I think... Rachel really likes you," Tina cautiously answered.

Quinn frowned around a slow nod. "I like her... too. She's interesting."

"Dude, Rachel wants you!" Puck blurted, unable to keep it in. Bored of keeping it in. "That's why I dumped you in the pool - to make it seem like we were flirtin', so that she'd grow some balls and make some sort of move." He shrugged. "She's jealous."

Quinn's first inclination was to chuckle. Cynically. "She's not jealous. You and I were just goofing around."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Man, I'm done helpin' broads who don't wanna see the obvious."

Suddenly not so sure of herself, Quinn looked to Tina, who merely shrugged in refusal to say any more than she already had.

"I guess," Quinn drawled, "I'll be talking to her when she gets done in the diary room then."

"Just for my own curiosity; do you like pussy or dick?" Puck suddenly blurted, like he was asking the blonde which brand of soda she liked the most. He continued to leisurely front crawl around the pool as he waited for an answer.

"Why do I get the distinct feeling that my sexuality has been discussed in the house prior to this?" Quinn asked, arching an eyebrow.

"'Cause you're smokin' hot, and everybody in this place is diggin' you. Man, woman, and child." Puck winked her way. "Now we all just need to know who _you're _diggin'."

Quinn frowned, blinking. She'd never enjoyed being put on the spot.

"E-Even I'm digging you, a-and I'm straight," Tina chirped at her.

"This is a mad house," Quinn mused, mostly to herself.

In the laundry room, Santana was stuffing some clothes into the washing machine. Big Brother's washing machine was much more complicated than the one at home. She still hadn't quite figured out how to get the thing to do what she wanted it to.

"Hey," came a sudden voice from the doorway.

Santana glanced over her shoulder, her features immediately softening when she saw that the presence was her wife. "Britt, I'm sorry for being a jackass yesterday," she rushed out, like it had been sitting in her throat for much too long. "I was just missing you, and then we had that bullshit argument - which was my fault - and I couldn't even talk things through with you afterward."

Brittany stepped into the room and pulled the door in behind her. She dumped the clothes that she'd brought with her on top of the machine, and began to needlessly sort through them, just in case Emma was upstairs watching them. "What did you say to Quinn in the kitchen yesterday?" she asked.

Santana's shoulders slumped. She knew that tone. Knew that it meant that she was still in the dog house. "I told her that I was gonna kick her ass out of the house, 'cause she was pissing me off."

Brittany sighed. Long and heavy.

"What?"

"I wanna work with her and Rachel!" Brittany sort of whined, sighing again. "I overheard Sam and them whispering about an all boy allegiance earlier."

"An all boy alliance?" Santana half asked, half corrected.

"Yeah. They call themselves The Gruesome Foursome, or something, and they're gonna pick off a girl each week."

"Fuck," Santana quietly gasped, raking her fingers back through her hair. "I don't even know why I'm shocked. The boys do this shit every season, whilst the women tear into each other."

"That's why we need to round the girls up. Quinn too! So you need to say sorry to her."

"... Alright," Santana reluctantly agreed. "You know, this would be a good reason for us to put Sam up. We'll tell the rest of the house that he's in _The Gruesome Foursome_," she mocked, "and he'll go the fuck home, where he belongs."

"We could..."

"But?"

"If Emma goes home, we'll be a girl down."

"She won't go home!" Santana quietly stressed.

"We don't know how Big Bro's gonna ask the two of us to vote. They might ask us to vote together as one vote," Brittany pointed out. "Not separately. If they do, Sam might not get enough votes to go home. We might not even be allowed to vote at all."

Santana nodded, loving the fact that she was married to a genius, even if she was currently in the dog house. "You thought of everything," she said, smiling at the beautiful blue-eyed blonde with uncensored love and adoration.

"I always tell you I'm the smart one," Brittany quipped, smiling a genuine smile for the first time in how long.

Once becoming aware of her own telling gaze, Santana cleared her throat, and pretended to inspect the washing machine's buttons. "Is Goliath in their alliance?"

"I don't know. I didn't hear everything."

"If we choose Finnept, he'll definitely go. That's one asshole down, at least."

Brittany shrugged a shoulder and smiled. "I'm down for that."

"We're good to go then."

Rachel walked out of the diary room feeling somewhat alleviated. She'd always been someone who'd benefited from talking about her feelings.

"Hey, can we talk?" Quinn asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

The blonde had since dried off and shed her bikini, in favor of some blue skinny jeans and a baggy viridian off-the-shoulder top.

She looked, quite simply put, unforgivingly scrumptious. At least she did in Rachel's estimation anyway.

"Sure," the brunette conceded, heading over to the sofa area, where she sat and removed her shades. She hung them in her bikini top, and watched as Quinn claimed a seat on the kitchen stool that had somehow found its way into the living area. "What do you wish to talk about, Quinn?"

"Us."

Rachel took a deep breath. She'd never been so intimidated by a one syllable word in her life. "What about... us?"

"Why'd you walk off earlier?"

"I wanted to talk to Big Brother."

Quinn's eyes narrowed. "About?"

"What Big Brother and I discuss is nobody's business but mine and Big Brother's, and quite frankly, I'm not sure that I appreciate the intensity with which you're interrogating me."

Quinn sighed, consciously toning her intensity down. This wasn't the first time that she'd been called intense. She often tended to get this way when she had a set goal in mind. "Rachel, if you don't talk to me, I don't know where I stand. All I know, so far, is that you think I'm pretty."

"You're being really cryptic," Rachel replied, sort of bewildered at this point.

"Were you jealous, earlier, when Puck and I were goofing around in the pool?" the blonde decided to just ask.

Rachel's cheeks purpled almost instantly...

"I guess I'll take that as a yes."

"Quinn, I don't want you to feel awkward with our... situation. You should be able to do as you please. So I simply removed myself from the situation, earlier, so that you could do just that."

Quinn nodded to herself. But didn't say a thing.

Rachel literally wanted the sofa to multiply and gobble her all up, expelling a guttural burp afterwards. But she knew that that wasn't going to happen, so she held her chin high and resolved to face the situation, like her fathers had always taught her to. "Big Brother suggested that I swap beds with someone in the other bedroom. We could do with some space -"

When the blonde shook her head, no, Rachel didn't quite know what to do with herself.

"No, you're not going anywhere. I like having you around," Quinn stated, adamant yet sporting an amused twinkle in her eye. "I'm straight," she then revealed. "I've only ever dated men. I've only ever fallen for men. I've never done anything with a woman, nor have I ever been presented with the opportunity to. The shirt that I wore for the HOH competition was a gift from a friend back in Ohio. We went to Gay Pride in Miami, and he bought it for me."

Rachel nodded and took another deep breath. She felt like she'd just been winded. Like she'd just been rejected at an audition.

"_But_!" Quinn emphasized, sending a flirtatious smirk and wink the brunette's way, "love's hard to find in this world. I'll never say no to it, regardless of where it comes from."

Well that was it - Rachel was certain that she was having some sort of heart attack...

* * *

**Having a ball with this. Next up will be the nominations ceremony ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Longer chapter. Thanks for the input guys. It is fun to play with some of the ideas you guys give me. On with the nominations ceremony...**

* * *

Other than the quiet hysteria that had settled over the Big Brother house, thanks to the nominations ceremony that would be taking place shortly, something almost school playground and romantic had secretly filled the air; touching each corner like a shy kiss to the cheek.

Puck had buried the only remaining bottle of wine deep into the fridge, whilst Tina had gone to the diary room to get clarification on which condiments houseguests were permitted to add to slop.

Then there was Brittany's small but jovial contribution, which had consisted of emptying a jar of cashew butter, cleaning it out, and filling it with a few of the artificial flowers that could be found out in the back garden.

Indeed, now that Rachel had somewhat been given the go ahead, she was determined to make tonight a night that Quinn would always look back on with fondness...

And of course, the hazel-eyed blonde had just been going about her day, oblivious to it all.

It was perfect.

"Hurry the hell up, mohawk boy! I need to piss!" Santana barked, banging relentlessly on the bathroom door.

"Just hold on a second. Sheesh."

The latina deadpanned. If there was one thing that she hated, it was being told to _hold on a second_. "I can always go relieve myself in your pillow case. I'm sure it'd make for some pretty interesting dreams. Now hurry up!"

A few minutes later, the toilet flushed, and Puck emerged, a grave tint to his eyes as he stood over the easily aggravated woman. "You might wanna give it an hour before you go in there," he warned. "The stench is _serious_."

"Boy move," Santana grunted, shoving past him - the top button of her jeans already unfastened.

Puck simply stood there, waiting for it...

"Holy fuck!" Santana suddenly gasped, tears almost springing to her eyes as she scrambled to step away from the bathroom _and _pull the door shut simultaneously. "What the **fuck**?" she demanded, needing answers - anything that would explain _that _smell. "There a God damn demon livin' up your ass or somethin'? Holy fuck! Why couldn't they've thrown a priest in this place? An exorcism would be great right about now."

Puck shrugged and slipped his hands into his pockets. "You were warned, dude."

"My God damn make-up is pealing."

Puck chuckled as he headed out into the garden, slinging, "babe, just be glad you're not blind," over his shoulder.

Santana growled low in her throat. She wasn't _glad _for anything, because her bladder was pulsating, and the bathroom was a freaking death trap in disguise.

"The HOH room's en-suite it is, then," she grumbled to herself when, by chance, she noticed Quinn shuffling into the laundry room.

The sight stopped the latina in her tracks, reminding her of the conversation that she'd had yesterday with her wife.

Other than where Brittany or other family members were concerned, it wasn't at all often that Santana Lopez apologized. She'd always been bloody-minded in that way, even when clearly in the wrong. But now she was in the Big Brother house, playing for half a million dollars. That, and if her wife wanted her to reconcile with the hazel-eyed blonde, for the sake of this yet to be formed all girl alliance, then so be it...

"Just the blonde that I was looking for," she purred from the doorway. "You're looking very... homely today in your red little bandana and slop-stained sweats."

Quinn glanced up from where she was crouched before the washing machine, lifting an eyebrow at the peculiar energy that had filled the space, now that Santana was stood in the doorway. "Can I... help you with something? Or are you just here to share your strange observations?"

As Santana stepped into the room and pulled the door in, she rolled her eyes. Not only because she'd never been any good at complimenting bitches that she could give two fucks about. But because... homely? Really?

But whatever. She was already over it.

"We gotta talk," she said, blunt and to the point.

Almost like she was playing one of those dance games on an IPad Touch, Quinn punched three of the washing machine's buttons in quick succession. She watched as her clothes span into motion, for a while, before rising from her crouched position, and looking the woman who'd threatened both her and Beth's livelihood, directly in the eye. "What could you and I possibly have to talk about? I thought it was understood that you're coming for me, and I'm coming for you."

"Yeah, well I guess you're just gonna have to reign in your thirst for retaliation, 'cause there's a not-so-secret anymore all guy alliance in the house," Santana revealed, buttoning her jeans back up indifferently.

"Okay..."

"And they're lookin' to pick a girl off each week," Santana added, tilting her head forward just a touch, as if to coax a reaction out of the blonde.

But Quinn kept her lips sealed. She was certain that she pretty much had everybody else in the house pegged. All except for the inexplicably guarded woman that was stood before her. She hadn't yet figured her out, and because of that she didn't trust her.

Not one iota.

"Nothing to say, doll face?"

"How do I know you're not making this up to serve some other agenda that you may, or may not have?" Quinn probed, eyeing the other woman with obvious suspicion.

Santana sighed, bored. "If we don't learn to stick the fuck together, we're fucked. Simple. You're either with us, or you're against us, Quinn. Choose."

"Who's _us_?"

"The rest of the bitches in the house! That's _who's us_!"

Quinn sucked in a slither of air, and gave a faint lone nod. "Nobody's said anything to me. I'll do some investigating, and then I'll... think about it. But thanks for the info."

"You're welcome, doll face. Be sure to let Rachel know what's up too, since _she _seems to be the brains of your marriage."

The comment, however scathing, caused the blonde to smirk, simply because Rachel was, indeed, the brains of their two-person operation.

"Oh, and what else did I come in here to say?" Santana asked herself, casually clicking her fingers as though the motion would jog her memory. Even though it didn't need to be jogged. "Oh yeah," she said, feigning recollection, "sorry for being a dick the day before yesterday. I was in a fucked up mood, and you caught the brunt of it." She shrugged. "_Quietly _do your little investigation and get back to me."

Without giving Quinn chance to even swallow, let alone respond, Santana was gone.

"How a-are you feeling a-about t-tonight? E-Excited?" Tina stammered, frowning as her speech impediment reached her own ears. She'd been stuttering like a mother fucker all day, and it was beginning to make her feel even more self-conscious than usual.

She wasn't sure; maybe it was the stress of the looming nominations ceremony...

"Hey," Rachel cooed, gently touching Tina's arm. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Many people have a stutter. My ex-girlfriend used to stutter after sex," she confessed, following it up with a fluttering juvenile chuckle.

Tina's features slowly imitated the other woman's risqué mirth. "You're that good, huh?"

Rachel smirked at the Asian beauty, who was surely becoming her friend. "I'm not saying any more. I've already said too much. Bryony may've turned my proposal down, but it was hell getting her out of my life thereafter. The last thing I want is for Big Brother to air my previous comment, only for her to come knocking on my front door with a grudge."

"Well if _Bryony _does come knocking on your door with a g-grudge, a-at least now you'll have Quinn to protect you."

Rachel scoffed; she should be so lucky. "I'm nervous about tonight," she confessed. "Excited, but most definitely nervous. I know that that may seem ridiculous, since I've only known Quinn for four days, but if you'll pardon the cliché, it feels as though I've known her much longer. I don't know." She shrugged, the motion setting the stool upon which she was seated into gentle turbulence. "I just hope I'm not coming on too strong. If this goes badly, the entirety of America will've bared witness to my, for lack of a better term, epic fail."

"It's not... r-ridiculous. When you like s-someone, you like someone. Doesn't m-matter how long you've known them. And you have n-nothing to worry about," Tina assured her with a kind smile. She swiveled Rachel's stool around so that the brunette was partway facing the vanity mirror, and then added, "Quinn seems r-really easygoing and fun. At the very least, she'll enjoy it. At the very m-most, she'll start to look at you t-the way you look at her."

The petite brunette looked to her own lap, and murmured, "thank you for your assistance today, Tina."

Tina gently lifted Rachel's chin up, angled it, and continued to dust the shorter woman's cheekbones with strokes of blusher. "It's okay. You're welcome," she replied soon after. "T-There's nothing else to do in here but play cupid anyway."

"Gee, thanks."

"You're welcome."

There _were_ other things to do in the house. At least there were if you were the Head Of Household anyway.

Now that the day of reckoning had arrived, Emma was fretting slightly. In a last ditch effort to secure Rachel and Quinn as the secret couple, in her mind, the lady-like redhead had interrogated Sam, Puck, Brittany, Will, Santana, and Artie, and nothing had been said that would have her question their stories.

As she emptied the black velvet drawstring pouch, and watched each houseguest's key fall to her bed, she double-checked her decision with herself.

"It's got to be them," she murmured into the silence, before slotting the first key into the lazy-Susan-like circular box.

Not too long after Emma had finished slotting the houseguests' keys into the box, did the dreaded, "_will all houseguests gather at the table for the nominations ceremony_!" ring out in the house.

The redhead was already stood near the dining table, hands clasped before her abdomen, waiting.

"Here we go," Santana mumbled as she drew a chair out and sat down.

In reality, she couldn't wait for it - the moment when both her and Brittany would be free to announce themselves as the secret couple.

For the latina, it was _here we go _indeed.

The other houseguests ambled up to the table soon after, taking their seats. It was almost as though they'd sat down to watch a hanging...

The anxiety that had circled the table manifested itself in ample different ways; Artie's incessant nail biting, Rachel's serious unblinking stare, Will's tendency to take an audible breath every few seconds, Sam's need to fiddle with his fingers.

Then there was Finn, who was sat up straight, convinced that he was going to be safe, regardless of his behavior towards Rachel two days ago. He'd apologized and she hadn't accepted it. In his mind, that was on her. Not him.

"Let's go, Emma," Puck prompted, ruffling his uncombed product-less mohawk.

"Yeah, let's do this!" Brittany chimed. She drummed her pale knuckles to the table, _so _over having to hide her marriage.

Emma took a step forward, and hooked the circular box, with the keys slotted into it, up to the center of the dining table.

She then cleared her throat, and spoke. "This is the nominations ceremony. One of my duties, as Head Of Household, is to nominate two people for eviction. However, in this case, my duty is to successfully nominate the two houseguests who make up the secret couple."

Quinn's eyes met Rachel's across the table, a subtle smile playing on both their faces.

Emma swallowed, her voice a little shaky as she said, "I will begin by pulling the first houseguest's key, and that person is safe from nomination. I will then roll the key slot box along to that person, who will then pull the second houseguest's key. That person will also be safe. And so on."

Jacob nodded, hardly able to believe that he was taking part in a nominations ceremony. He'd watched the ritual play out across his TV screen so many times. Everything right down to the lazy-Susan, and the gold lettering that marred each key, he appreciated.

Extending her pale hand out, Emma secured her fingers around the first key, twisted it unlatched, and drew it from the box. She took in the bold gold letters that were printed across it and announced, "Finn, you are safe."

Grinning, Finn jumped to his feet to receive the key slot box that Emma had rolled around towards him. "Thanks Emma," he chirped, reaching in to draw the next key.

Brittany was certain that the man was deliberately taking his time pulling out the key. But it was okay. He was going to pay for all of his transgressions, soon enough.

"Artie, you are safe," Finn declared, rolling the box around to twenty-year-old man, who'd given a tight smile before standing up.

"Thanks Emma," Artie murmured as he pulled the next key. "Santana, you are safe."

"Thank you, Emma," the latina purred, standing to receive the box from Artie.

Emma's forehead had sprouted an unladylike sheen of sweat. It had gotten to the point where she was wincing with every key that was pulled. For all she knew, she'd already saved a houseguest who was one half of the secret couple.

She hoped not.

She sincerely hoped not...

All eyes watched as Santana drew the next key, and held it up to the light. "Tina, you are safe," she announced, pushing the box around the table.

Tina smiled and stood, quietly pulling the next key. "Puck, you are safe."

"Thanks Em," he simply chirped, standing as the box reached him. "It's not like anybody can imagine Puckzilla married anyway, though right?"

"Be quiet and pull the next key!" Emma scolded him, lips pursing once they'd ceased their biting motion. She maneuvered her owlish eyes between Rachel and Quinn, looking for anything that would indicate their worry over the fact that their keys had not yet been pulled. But the redhead saw nothing of concern in their eyes, and _that _really began to stress her out.

After advising Emma to chill, Puck pulled the next key and proclaimed, "Sam, you are safe."

Sam rose from his seat, smiling Emma's way. "Thank you." He quickly stopped the key slot box from rolling past him, given the power that Puck had put behind pushing it.

There were a few quiet chuckles from the houseguests that had already received their keys.

"You're such a kid," Artie fondly mused, to which Puck grinned and shuffled back down into his chair.

Sam twisted the next key unlatched, and drew it from the slot. His eyes passed over the gold lettering. "Brittany, you are safe," he said, smiling at the tall dancer.

"Thanks Emma," Brittany merrily chimed, rising to her feet.

At that point, all of the safe houseguests peered at Quinn, Rachel, Will, and Jacob, because they were the four remaining houseguests, and there were only two keys left to pull.

"Will, you are safe," Brittany read aloud.

"Thank you Emma," the older man croaked. He released a breath and smiled, because receiving his key meant that Emma had believed him when he'd told her that his wife was absolutely not in the house with him. It meant that the redhead had, hopefully, nominated the secret couple successfully, so that _they _would face eviction as opposed to Emma and another innocent houseguest. Namely himself.

But now there was only one key left to pull. The key that could change everything.

Quinn, Jacob, and Rachel eyed it, differing agendas bubbling beneath their composed exteriors.

Almost as though things had shifted into slow-motion, Will drew the last key, paused, and then said… "Jacob, you are safe."

As if to take the nomination on the chin, Quinn nodded. As did Rachel.

All eyes found the two women, most curious. Other's incredulous.

Jacob hadn't even bothered to thank the creepy redhead for his key. He wasn't interested in falsities. He wanted to know whether Quinn and Rachel - the two houseguests that Emma had nominated - were actually the secret couple or not, so that he could either sit pretty, knowing that he wasn't going anywhere this week, or fret over whether the true secret couple were going to select him to go up on the block.

Emma cleared her throat upon the silence. "I have nominated both you, Quinn, and you, Rachel," she declared, swallowing hard. "My reason for nominating the two of you lies within the fact that no other two people in this house have the chemistry that you seem to have. I spent quite a bit of time upstairs, this week, watching the two of you on the TV. The way that you interact is flirtatious and easy. That is why I have nominated the two of you as the secret couple."

Having spoken her piece, the redhead stood back from the table and glanced up, as if to prompt Big Brother's cue to step in.

"If it is you two, you had me fooled," Sam whispered across at Rachel and Quinn, whose lips both remained sealed.

"Me too," Tina muttered, suddenly not so sure if she'd spent the day planning a date for two people who were already married, or not. Rachel, after all, had said that she was an actress.

It was all that Santana could do to sit quiet and still. The most that she could do was grin, so she did. She grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"_This is Big Brother_!"

Emma jumped at the sound of the loud voice, and began to fiddle with the elegant pearls that rested around her neck. She blinked repeatedly, almost like a lost lamb.

"_Will one half of the secret couple please stand!_"

Brittany sent a subtle nod in her wife's direction, whilst the rest of the houseguests, including Emma, stalked Quinn and Rachel's every breath...

"_Will one half of the secret couple please stand_!" Big brother repeated.

In one smooth motion, Santana stood up and gave the aghast faces around the table a smug little wave. "_Finally_. I was getting tired of hiding it. Now where's my wedding ring?" she agonized, yet clearly loving every second of holding everybody within the palm of her hand.

Emma's lips pursed tight, her hand falling away from her pearls to ball taut at her side.

"I knew it!" Puck shrieked, his eyes racing through the air towards Brittany.

"_You're _married?" Sam asked the latina. "To who?"

Rachel frowned, and deeply, because well... she most definitely had not seen _that _coming. Santana? One half of the secret couple?

The brunette's heart began to thrum as she instantly grew concerned for Quinn's safety within the house, and if the look in the blonde's exquisite hazel eyes was any indication then she, too, was extremely worried.

_"Will the other half of the secret couple please stand_!" Big Brother instructed...

In much the same fashion that her wife had, Brittany rose from her seat, a sly little smirk manipulating her expression. "Hey Sanny," she chirped, waving at her wife.

"Hey Britt-Britt," Santana was all to happy to husk.

Jacob gulped. There went the life that he'd planned out for himself and the beautiful lithe blonde, straight out of the window.

Quinn fidgeted in her seat, no more comforted by the second reveal. She hadn't spent much time with Brittany. But going by how passive she seemed, Quinn felt that it was pretty safe to say that Brittany would just go along with whoever Santana wanted to put on the block.

She just really hoped that that person wasn't her. But if her last few interactions with Santana were anything to go by, the blonde knew that she had cause to be freaking out.

"I'm, like, totally blown away right now," a slack-jawed Sam uttered, looking to Puck, who simply waved it off dismissively.

"Dude, I figured it out the day before yesterday. I just didn't say anythin', 'cause I wasn't sure. I got a little explicit with Santana on the first night, and Brittany threatened to beat my ass."

"The Brittany in _this _house?" Artie asked, unable to imagine the happy-go-lucky dancer threatening anybody.

"Yep," Puck answered.

Beside the three nattering men, Finn shook his head because - he sighed heavily - more fags?

And married fags at that.

If you were to have tossed a concrete medicine ball at Emma, it would have hit her tensed body, and crumbled to dust. She couldn't believe that such fuckery was taking place - couldn't believe that Brittany and Santana, _such _polar opposites, were the secret married couple.

"I-I can't... I c-can't believe this," she whispered, speaking her first words since the couple's reveal.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Emma," Santana purred, looking directly at Quinn as she added, "_you're _not the target."

At the sight of such brazen goading, Rachel had to resist her urge to bring her fist down on the table. She had no idea as to whether her partner in crime would be going up on the block. She wasn't putting anything past the cantankerous latina at this point.

All Rachel knew was that if Quinn went home this week, **all** responsible parties were going to _feel _it!

"_Santana and Brittany, as you have successfully kept your marriage a secret, Emma will face eviction. It is now your duty to select another houseguest to face eviction. Who have you selected and why_?" Big Brother prompted, adding multiple layers to the anxiety that already plagued the space.

"You wanna say it, baby, or should I?" Santana asked, sweet as pie.

"You say it," Brittany happily decided.

Needing to make the most of her power over the other houseguests, the latina pressed both hands flat to the table and leaned in a little, slowly taking her eyes around every face present.

"Santana!" Emma pushed, needing to know what she was up against.

The sadistic caramel-skinned woman clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright," she conceded. "The houseguest that we have chosen to nominate is Finn."

Like air from a popped balloon, all of the tension rushed from the space. Quinn blew free the mounting breath that she'd been holding, and Emma actually managed a smile.

Rachel bumped fists with Tina, whilst Sam, Puck, and Artie all hi-fived one another.

It was almost like the sun had come out again. Except for in the corner that Finn was occupying.

There the dark cloud remained.

"Why me? I don't deserve it!" he yelled, growing dangerously red in the face - even behind the ears. "I hate you all! Why me?"

Santana cast a menacing glare in the furious man's direction, easing up only when her wife said: "Allow me."

Finn glared at Brittany.

"We chose you because we don't like you, and it's not helping that I heard your thoughts just now. Married fags? Really? I can't wait for you to leave. Yay." Hanging a cutesy little smile on the end of her cheery explanation, the blonde then announced, "the nominations ceremony is adjacent."

"Adjourned, baby," Santana gently corrected, before looking to the other houseguests and declaring, "the nominations ceremony is adjourned!"

Where houseguests were normally known to scatter off to different pockets of the house, following a nominations ceremony, most stayed seated, tossing question after question at Brittany, regarding her marriage.

Emma stuck around if only to try to forge a few bonds with her fellow houseguests, so that they, for sure, wouldn't vote her out of the house tomorrow.

Finn had already stormed off, and now Quinn was getting up to leave.

"Hey doll face?" a smooth silken voice suddenly called from behind.

Santana's voice.

The utterly exhausted hazel-eyed blonde turned around. "What?"

"We good?"

Quinn stood there, considering the olive branch that Santana was extending out to her...

"Are we good?" Santana enunciated, eyes now narrowed.

"For now," left the blonde's lips, before she headed off down the hallway, and disappeared into the cabana room for a long overdue nap.

* * *

Night had fallen over the Big Brother house. Not that any of the houseguests were asleep, besides Quinn, that is.

"Go wake her up, dude," Puck encouraged, from where he was stood in the kitchen in a white wife-beater, munching on a sandwich.

Lost in the comfort of the sofa beneath her, Rachel adjusted her head in Tina's lap. "Quinn didn't particularly seem like she was in the best of moods after the nominations ceremony, Puck. Maybe it would be best to allow her to rest," she replied, struggling to get over how cute Quinn had looked, today, in her gray sweats, white shirt, and red bandana.

"You should go and show her a good time - t-take her out of her bad mood," Tina suggested. "That's if she was e-even in a bad mood. She just seemed t-tired to me."

"Maybe," Rachel hummed. But still, she made no move.

"Quit being such a pussy, and wake the Goddess up. Or I will," Puck mumbled around his mouthful.

Artie, who was dozing on the other side of the sofa, chuckled drowsily. "You wanna go make noises outside of the cabana room door and wake her up, Puck?" he proposed, sluggish yet playful.

Rachel immediately sat up, her disapproving glare darting between the two men. "Neither of you will do any such thing! Allow the woman her rest!" she demanded.

"Sounds like that'd be hilarious, bro," Puck answered Artie, all whilst giving Rachel a pointed look.

Tina sniggered.

Beside her, Rachel caught herself sighing. Yes, she wanted to wake Quinn up for their surprise date. But she was being - in Puck's very own words - a pussy.

What if Quinn wasn't in the mood? What if she said… no?

"You won't know unless you try," Tina suddenly whispered, as if reading the brunette's mind.

Just then Brittany fluttered into the room, halting her graceful walk when she spotted Rachel. "Why aren't you on your date?" she asked, her eyebrows veering in towards each other in genuine concern. "I put flowers in a vase and everything."

Rachel rolled her eyes and gave a soft chuckle permission to rock her shoulders. These people had only known her for four days, and yet they seemed to carry enough of an investment in her happiness, to push her when she needed it.

Either that or they were just bored and grateful for something to do.

She recalled how determined she'd been, earlier in the day, to make tonight one of Quinn's fondest, and slipped the determination back on like it was a coat. "Puck, would you extract the bottle of wine from the fridge, and take it out to the garden?" she delegated.

He grinned. "Sure thing."

Rachel stood up from the sofa, and batted the wrinkles out of her _Wicked _night shirt. "Brittany, would you also take the flower vase out to the garden?"

"Sure."

"I'll prepare the bowls of slop, and add the pineapple and banana jam to it," Tina volunteered, winking the brunette's way.

Rachel smiled, a certain rosiness filling her cheeks. "Thanks guys."

Now she just needed Quinn and a blanket for them to sit down on...

In the cabana room, Quinn suddenly stirred, rolling over and blinking as she became aware of the fact that somebody was politely knocking on the door. She stretched and rubbed some of the heaviness from her right eye. "Uh... come in!" she husked, voice still hoarse.

When Rachel poked her head into the room and lit the air with her twinkling smile, Quinn chuckled, because she'd already known that it was the brunette who'd been knocking. "What are you smiling at?" the blonde croaked.

"Well," Rachel began, momentarily thrown by how beautiful the freshly awoken woman looked, "I have something to... show you. Out in the garden. Would you like to see it?"

Quinn's eyes cleared of their sleepy haze, something distinctly curious and playful seeping into them. She sat up on her elbows and slowly arched an eyebrow. "Hmmm. What is it?"

"Yay or nay, Quinn?" Rachel asked, refusing to give anything away. "You have five seconds to answer. After that, the offer's off the table," she teased.

Quinn's curiosity grew in the form of a smirk, as she began making moves to get up. "What offer? I don't even know what you're talking about."

"You'll see."

"Lead the way then, oh mysterious one," Quinn quipped, following out after the brunette.

* * *

**I know you hate me right now lmaooo!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Some interesting reviews guys ;) **

**Jo, I had already been playing with an idea surrounding Rachel's ex. Not quite the letter thing. But close. :)**

**To the guest who asked if Brittany is psychic, it would appear that she is just a little, wouldn't it? Lol. She's like this all knowing entity who never gets any credit for it.**

**Thanks for the feedback everyone.**

* * *

The truth was that after four and a half years of singledom, Quinn Fabray was not accustomed to romantic gestures.

Outside of the Big Brother house, her life was filled with obligations; check lists, housework, bill deadlines, and important phone calls to make. The bank manager fabricating issues with her account, and stalling whilst he mustered up the courage to ask for her phone number - _that _was about as romantic as it ever got in Quinn's world.

So when she followed Rachel out into the garden, only to be met with the warm glow of four lit candles, all set out amongst a bottle of wine, two glasses, two napkin-covered bowls, and a blanket that was peppered with flower-petals, her first inclination was to lift her palms to her flushing cheeks, and just... stare at the spectacle.

Unblinking.

Lips slightly parted...

After a good twenty-five seconds of dead silence, Rachel cleared her throat.

"Quinn," she began, swallowing slowly, "the admittance of my attraction towards you, when we were in the hot tub - that wasn't me hitting on you, although the egotist in you seems to like to think that it was... This however," she uttered softly, motioning her hand out over the cosy scene, "is me hitting on you. So, would you be interested in joining me for something to eat, a few glasses of wine, and some five-star conversation?"

Despite the stretching silence that followed, Rachel managed to conjure a patient smile. It sat upon her expression, betrayed only by her dwindling optimism, which had - heartbreakingly enough - tugged her eyebrows up in sheepish anticipation of the blonde's response.

Not that Quinn had noticed. In fact, she still hadn't come out from behind her palms. She'd begun to blink again, and the first flutterings of a slow-burning grin had begun to mark her lips.

But other than that...

Rachel felt as though she was drowning, and fast. "_Or_..." she scrambled, in an attempt to steer things back to safe ground, "If you'd prefer to skip the food and the five-star conversation, and just get shitfaced instead, then that can also be arranged."

"Oh my God," Quinn murmured, suddenly dropping her hands from her flushed face. Her eyes darted away from the relaxing scene that flickered before her, and shot towards Rachel's, something separate from the moonlight gleaming in the rich depths of gold that danced around her pupils. "Oh my God. Rachel, this is really really _really _sweet -"

"But?"

_"But_," Quinn emphasized, shooting the antsy brunette a subtly playful pointed look, "I-I wasn't expecting..." She gestured down at her slop-stained sweatpants, and pinched the fabric of her plain white shirt. "Look at me. I'm not even dressed for -"

"You look infuriatingly stunning, as per usual," Rachel assured her, an impenetrable conviction settling over her features, where palpable uncertainty had lived just moments before.

Quinn gently bumped the brunette's hip with her own, grinning as she whispered, "why do I believe that you mean that?"

"Perhaps because you imagine that I do. Now stop fishing for compliments regarding your appearance. If anybody needs the reassurance of compliments right now, it's me," Rachel quipped, her tone mirthlessly dry, yet still somehow dripping with humor.

An arm suddenly draped itself around her shoulders, warm in nature, unintrusive, and smooth to the touch. She barely had time to settle into the physical contact, before Quinn's lips crept towards her ear, and husked, "I'm about to go on a date with you, on television. My family, my enemies, my friends - they're gonna see me in date mode which, if I'm honest, makes me a little uncomfortable. Our evening may be filled with awkward silences and stilted monosyllables masquerading as chit-chat. It may end in tears, a broken heel. Or worse... drunk Quinn. But despite all of that, I still can't help but be eager to sit down with you and enjoy this sweet and generous gesture. I hope you'll see the compliment in that, as well as find the reassurance that you so covet."

Rachel blew out a slow breath, and finally allowed herself to just... relax.

"Now, where are the waitresses?" Quinn suddenly asked. "I want to know if they have any lobster in tonight, which... _you're _gonna have to spring for, by the way."

"If you're expecting some sort of witty comeback out of me, you're out of your mind. I'm just about managing to breathe with how close you're standing."

"And therein lies the perfectly timed witty comeback," Quinn laughed. She casually ran her hand down the brunette's back, until it fell away.

"So I hear that you work in data entry," Rachel chirped, having shaken the oppressive weight of her nerves. "I was getting my hair styled at the salon two days ago, when I overheard Mysterious Magdalene and Curious Contessa nattering about your office manner..."

Spluttering out another unrestrained snort of laughter, Quinn crouched down and crawled towards the blanket, where she curled her legs beneath her body, and hovered her hand over closest candle flame; admiring its beauty. "I love how you're trying to get the boring work talk out of the way now, so that you can get to grilling me about the juicy stuff," she replied, her voice smooth and melodic, yet tinged with an absent distractedness.

"Who said anything about boring? I'll have you know that I love my job," Rachel protested, from where she'd settled down opposite the blonde. "I love the spotlight - the goose bumps that I get when receiving a standing ovation. There's nothing... quite like it."

"Your passion's admirable, Rachel. I could never be on stage like that," Quinn murmured. She took her gaze over the red petals that surrounded her, her eyes brimming with an almost child-like awe as she ran a lone fingertip over one. She noted that it was stiff to the touch. Artificial.

But instead of cheapening the sentiment, she found that it somehow only served to add a sweet resourcefulness to the air...

"Why not?"

"Why not what?" Quinn asked, glancing up.

"Why could you never work on stage?"

"Oh... Well _because_," Quinn drawled, and in a fashion that the shorter woman found to be excruciatingly adorable, "I'm just a simpleton who never managed to escape from Ohio, and vast audiences scare me."

"Hmm," Rachel hummed, intrigued by the simpleton comment. "Well hopefully vast audiences don't scare you to the point that you can't be a part of one, because I'd like for you to come to at least one of my performances. If we ever make it out of here with our sanity intact, that is."

Quinn smirked and narrowed her gaze, mischievously watching Rachel through her eyelashes. "I'd be more than happy to sit in the front row, and... flash my chest at you during your big number."

"Oh, you know," Rachel said, feigning a theatrical indifference, "happens all the time - beautiful women flashing me and tossing their panties at my feet. Would you believe that I now have a collection? At _any _time, feel free to make a contribution."

Quinn giggled. A real nose-wrinkling, shoulder jerking, sunny kind of giggle.

And Rachel just... stared at her, because that was all that she could do.

Though neither woman mentioned it, they both felt the minuscule shift in that moment.

Even Tina and Puck, who'd had their faces pressed up against the patio door's glass for the last ten minutes, felt it.

"Spreadin' the flower petals was an _awesome_ alteration to the plan, dude."

Tina smiled warmly. "I know. It looks so romantic."

"Wouldn't be surprised if Rach gets laid tonight."

"Not so sure a-about that. But they l-look like they're enjoying themselves."

Without looking away from the two women who were outside, giggling in the candlelight, Puck held his fist out.

And Tina bumped it...

Whilst the surprise date had gotten started without too many hitches, Jacob Ben Israel was hoping that his plan would do the same.

He was sat on the sofa, staring at the memory wall. Twelve vibrant electronic pictures, including his own, hung before him. But he was studying only Finn and Emma's photograph, and he was imagining that one of them was grayed out.

Emma's, more specifically.

The nerdy little man smirked to himself, because if Emma walked out of the front door after having been evicted, tomorrow night, he was going to relish watching her memory wall picture gray over, knowing that he'd masterminded a genius game move.

"What a-are you doing, Jacob?" Tina asked as she merrily swept over.

"Oh, you know - just admiring your beautiful memory wall picture," he replied.

Not quite sure how to respond to the awkward compliment, Tina gave a quick meager smile. "Uh..."

"I've been meaning to talk to you actually, Tina."

"Really?" the thrown-off woman asked, frowning. Sensing that this conversation was going to be one that she needed to sit down for, she did just that. "What a-about?"

Jacob figured that he'd just cut straight to the chase. "You're thinking of voting Finn out, right?"

"Isn't e-everybody? The man's an idiot. And the whole t-thing with Rachel -"

"I was waiting for her name to come up," Jacob interrupted.

Tina fidgeted uncomfortably. "W-What do you mean?"

"I mean that I think it's great that you've made a friend." He smiled, only for it to slowly evaporate as he added, "but none of us are in here to create long-lasting friendships. We're in here to play a game. Our _own _game. Not someone else's."

"I-I don't think that -"

"I know you don't want to betray Rachel, Tina. But if Emma goes and Finn stays, then it's happy times for everyone, _including _Rachel. We'll all be able to sit pretty, because - let's face it - Finn's hardly going to win the next HOH competition, and whoever does is going to be doing everything within their power to right the fact that he wasn't evicted this week, instead of targeting one of us."

"I'm n-not going to vote Finn out just because I'm f-friends with Rachel!" Tina protested. "I, personally, would like for him to leave, because **I **don't like him."

"Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta leave the bigger targets in the house, so that they'll keep the spotlight off of you. **Even**... if you don't like them," Jacob said.

Tina kept quiet. She more than saw the sense in Jacob's proposed strategy. It was a great way to coast under the radar, week after week, whilst the bigger characters in the house went after one another. But she hated living with Finn. Besides the fact that he was a homophobic misogynistic ape, he was untidy. He'd leave dirty dishes out for one of the women - as he'd once said - to wash. He always left skid marks in the toilet bowl, and after he showered he'd leave his wet towel on the floor.

She didn't want to live with him for another week, and if he ended up staying then Rachel was for sure going to lose her shit...

Jacob adjusted his glasses. "You think Rachel's looking out for you?" he hissed. "She's not. We both know that if it comes down to it, she's going to take Quinn to the final two over you. Everybody knows it. That's why you have to look out for yourself in here, because nobody else is going to."

The short little man then stood up, and left Tina to suffer her own thoughts.

Out in the garden, however, things seemed to be going much better.

"I still can't believe that you did all of this, Rachel," Quinn murmured around a sip of wine.

And she couldn't. She hadn't been expecting this, because well... nobody ever really did anything special for her these days. In fact, when Beth would offer to make her a sandwich, or offer to reheat yesterday's dinner in the microwave, the blonde always got a little glassy-eyed, simply because the kind gestures would catch her off guard.

Rachel tilted the bottle of wine, her hand steady as the golden liquid poured into her glass, and emitted a sophisticated piddling sound. "Well believe it, Quinn. I've been scheming this up since yesterday." She winked at the adorably attired woman, whose eyes seemed to switch colors in the candlelight, as they grew rich with an amusement that words might have failed to paint...

"Everything okay?" the brunette asked, for no reason other than because silence had settled between them.

"Don't worry about me. I'm just dandy."

"I bet you are, Miss I'm-already-on-my-third-glass-of-wine."

After a moment or two, Quinn ushered her flirtatious gaze away from Rachel's smirk, and partway lifted the napkin that was covering the bowl closest to her. "What's - is this slop?" she asked.

Before Rachel could part her lips to respond, Quinn had already taken a cheeky peek. "Hmmm. Yellow slop," she curiously observed.

The shorter woman took on a pleased glow, more than happy to announce, "It has pineapple and banana jam mixed into it. You're always complaining that the slop has no taste, and I saw you longingly ogling the banana and pineapple jam two nights ago."

Quinn momentarily fell quiet, merely blinking as the depth of the brunette's thoughtfulness washed through her. "Rachel, you're incredibly thoughtful and sweet. But Big Brother -"

"Stop fretting, pretty lady," Rachel interjected. "It's perfectly within the rules to mix jam with slop. I had Tina confer with Big Brother."

"Tina helped with this?"

Rachel sipped from her glass and nodded. "Along with Puck and Brittany. Yes. Though the candles were not always a part of the plan. We spotted them in the storage room at the last minute."

"I have to say," Quinn whispered, leaning in like she was about to share a secret, "I love the candles especially."

"I have to say: I do too."

Just then a gentle breeze blew the napkin off of Rachel's bowl, revealing the very same yellow goo that sludged in the bowl opposite.

Quinn's jaw dropped at the sight, a small gasp leaving her. "Wait, you're eating slop too?"

The brunette nodded. One time and emphatically. "Of course. I wasn't very well going to sit across from you, demolishing a roasted dinner, whilst you miserably shoveled slop into your mouth."

Quinn didn't say a thing. She just stared at the other woman with this inexplicably soft expression.

Rachel's cheeks fell pink. "What?"

"Thank you for tonight," the blonde uttered softly.

"Wow," Rachel chuckled. "The slop can't be _that _bad."

Quinn quirked an eyebrow. "How much do you wanna bet?"

"Well I hope I can at least get a few spoonfuls down."

"All jokes aside though, Rachel, you've shown yourself to be boundlessly thoughtful, and resourceful, and attentive, _and _sweet. So thank you for tonight."

"The pleasure's all mine. And good, because sweet is what I was going for." Rachel grabbed her napkin and tucked it into the neck of her _Wicked _night shirt. "Shall we dig in?"

"Sure."

And dig in they did.

To Quinn's surprise, the addition of the pineapple and banana jam meant that the slop actually tasted... good! She no longer feared the possibility that she might be on the slop diet again next week, because now she was armed with the secret weapon of pineapple and banana jam, thanks to Rachel, who'd agreed that the concoction didn't actually taste all that bad.

"So now that I've just regaled you with the sad details of my Broadway obsession, tell me what genre of music you enjoy the most, Quinn."

The blonde shrugged a shoulder, and said, "guess."

Rachel scooped some slop into her mouth, and chewed whilst weighing up Quinn's personality with each musical genre. "Could it be that," she said, playful in the manner with which she drawled her words, "beneath your elegant and somewhat aloof disposition, beats the heart of a... death metal fan?"

Quinn gasped. "You know, you're not too far off!"

Rachel's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. When I mentioned flashing you earlier?" Quinn smirked to herself. "Well, let's just say that I got the band, _Kiss_, to autograph my breasts at a concert once."

Rachel almost choked. "I'm sorry, but _what_?" she shrieked.

Quinn chuckled and picked up her glass of wine. It hovered just before her pink lips as she chewed and swallowed. "I was seventeen at the time. But I'd been listening to them years before I actually got to go to that concert. I let Gene Simmons name each breast." She blinked herself out of the memory, and tossed the rest of her wine back, before adding, "although I probably shouldn't have been engaging in that sort of thing with a two-year-old at home."

"At this point, I think that it would be best if I stopped trying to picture what you just described, and ask about your daughter," Rachel rambled, shakily pouring another much needed glassful of wine.

It was all that Quinn could do to stop her laughter from locking up her throat, and cutting off her supply of oxygen. But to no avail; she laughed until her cheeks were dusted rouge, and pained noises rasped from her throat.

"You, Quinn, are such a goof."

"Thanks for the compliment."

Rachel winked at the chuckling woman. "You're welcome. I love a good goof off. But steering the conversation _away _from your breasts, and towards your daughter - who I've heard you talk about around the house a few times now - what's her name?"

Quinn wiped the moisture from the corners of her eyes. "Her name is Beth," she said, settling herself down. "Everybody says she looks just like me."

"So she's unjustly stunning then," Rachel remarked.

"I think she is," Quinn mused. "She's coming fourteen soon, and boys are already pestering her. I'm not looking forward to having to pretend to be civil to any boy that she may introduce me to. All I'm gonna want to do is grill him, and let him know not to fuck with my daughter."

"Wow, your eyes really light up when you talk about her," Rachel observed, somewhat taken aback by the sheer adoration that had suddenly dominated the space. "If you ever win HOH, you'll be able to show me pictures."

Quinn smiled. "What about you? Any kids?"

"I haven't blessed this earth with my offspring just yet, no," the brunette replied. "I'm twenty-five, so I'd like to dedicate a few more years to my career before having children. Then there's, of course, the issue of finding someone who wants to settle down and raise a family with me."

Quinn hummed her understanding. She knew, first-hand, that raising a child alone was tough. "It always helps to have a plan," she said.

"I wonder whether or not Santana and Brittany have any children," Rachel pondered aloud. "They already have the marriage part secured."

"Can you believe that _they _were the secret couple? I haven't forgotten about Santana trying to get us to think that Will was one half of the secret couple either. She's very manipulative."

"So I've noticed," Rachel agreed, recalling the latina's behavior during the nominations ceremony. "My gaydar must be faulty though, because I had absolutely no idea that Santana and Brittany were family."

Quinn frowned, halting her spoon just inches from her lips. "Family?" she asked.

"We're all a part of the LGBT family," the brunette chirped, smiling.

Quinn nodded. "Got it."

Rachel smirked. For the moment, she was rather content. She could feel the alcohol buzz wearing on her senses, Quinn seemed to be enjoying the date, and Finn was going home tomorrow night.

Could things get any better?

The brunette received her answer at four in the morning, when Quinn had pressed her lips to her cheek, just before they'd headed into the house.

* * *

**;)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Shake22, lmaooo! Your reviews often crack me up! Somebody's definitely going to be leaving ;) Don't worry.**

**Chloe, aww. What a nice thing to say. I am happy that I could put a smile on your face with the use of these wonderful characters ;)**

**Original-Badass, I am happy you liked it. As much as you may dislike Jacob, he is looking out for number one, which is what you've got to do in that horribly stressful house ;) I'm picturing you in the house, and I know that you'd be doing the same thing lol!**

**Beth, Rose McGowan definitely had a certain sex appeal to her. That gorgeous pale skin. Honestly, I would have taken any of the Charmed girls to bed, given half the chance. I'm not picky lol! : )**

**JackilisFaMo, I love that you enjoyed the breast flashing conversation. I enjoyed writing it : D**

**EDITED To the guest who asked who Beth's dad was, if you are only continuing to read this to find out who Beth's dad is then I must be doing something wrong as a writer lol. I don't want to reveal who it is just yet. Why do you want to know so badly? You seem almost worried. Who do you think it is?**

**Thanks for the feedback everyone.**

* * *

The frenzied scramble for last minute votes was a sight that the Big Brother house had seen many times before.

Only, Jacob wasn't exhibiting any signs of frenzy. He was calm and collected, poised to play his role down to every last blink, as he casually sowed the seeds of deceit...

"We can't tell Sam. He's not going to go for voting Emma out over Finn."

"Man, Rachel's gonna be livid," Puck muttered, sporting a somewhat sullen faraway look.

Artie placed a reassuring hand to the crestfallen man's back. "Neither of us wanna do this. But Jacob's right, big man. If Finn stays, we're all more or less safe next week."

Puck listened to Artie's softly spoken words, repeating them in his head. Given that he was thirty-years-old with _nothing _to show for it, he knew what he was going to have to do tonight.

He knew what he was going to have to do to secure himself another week within the house.

"It's just - Rachel's like the heart of the house, dude," he sighed, tapping his fingertips on the bedside cabinet in what was a physical manifestation of his unsettled mind. "When she blows, we're **all** gonna have to wipe the residue from our cheeks."

Artie threw himself down on a nearby bed, and mumbled, "I know."

It was all that Jacob could do to stop himself from rolling his eyes, because seriously, what was this? A scene out of The Green Mile or something?

"I planted the seed in Tina's head last night," he spoke up. "I'm pretty sure that she's going to vote Emma out. So that's Tina, me, you Puck, you Artie, and... now we just need to get Will to vote our way too, which would yield a vote of five to three, in our favor."

"What's to say that Britt and Santana aren't voting tonight?" Artie theorized. "We haven't accounted for their vote."

Jacob chuckled, like a father chuckling at something stupid that his young son had said, due to a lack of life experience. "The HOH never gets to vote, unless it's to break a tie."

"But," Artie drawled, not to fond of the shorter man's condescending tone, "Brittany and Santana aren't the HOH. _Emma _is."

"In case you haven't noticed, Emma's up on the block. Santana and Brittany essentially put her there, along with Finn. They might not be sleeping up in the HOH room, but they were the true Head Of Households this week. Big Brother isn't going to have them vote, unless it's to settle a tiebreak."

"I'm out. Need somethin' to drink," Puck suddenly announced.

When he left the bedroom and found that Rachel wasn't around, his shoulders sagged with relief.

He didn't want to have to smile in her face, whilst knowing that he was about to screw her over.

Up in the HOH room, the girls had convened to offer Emma some reassurance regarding the looming eviction.

Tina was sat in the armchair in the far corner, her eyes hazed over as the surrounding conversations phased in and out of her awareness.

"What do you think, Tina?"

The quiet woman blinked and looked up. "W-What?"

Santana cocked a suspicious eyebrow. "Why are you so damn quiet all the time?" she asked, instead of filling Tina in on all that she'd apparently missed.

From where she was snuggled on the vast bed, between Quinn and Brittany, Rachel reached over and squeezed the latina's arm. "Leave her alone!" she warned.

"Or what? You'll get your preppy girlfriend over there to kick my ass?"

"Fuck you, Santana," Quinn mumbled, much too relaxed to put any hostility, bass, or volume into it.

Santana flashed the pristine rock that gleamed on her ring finger. "I'd love to, doll face. But I'm married."

"How will I _ever _go on, knowing that I've missed my chance?" Quinn quipped, the boredom in her tone overridden only by the copious amounts of sarcasm.

"I don't know, doll face. I guess you're just gonna have to make do with Rachel."

"And I guess that poor Brittany's just gonna have to make do with you."

"Excuse you, bitch?"

Not too fond of what she was hearing, Rachel huffed. "Santana! I do not appreciate -"

"**Settle **down and act like ladies!" Emma stepped in.

Suddenly the other women in the room all fell quiet, like they were back at school being dictated to by a teacher.

All except for Brittany, that is, who shrugged. "Don't listen to Sanny, guys. She's just cranky because I wouldn't let her go down on me in the bathroom last night."

Emma's eyes popped with horror.

Rachel's features seized somewhere in-between her disgruntled frown and a smirk.

Tina chuckled, despite her heavy mood.

And Quinn fizzled into a deep cackle that rocked the bed and saw her creamy throat exposed.

Rachel stared at it, memorizing every glorious muscular twitch.

Beside them, Santana rolled her eyes. "It's not like you guys can blame me. I have **the **most beautiful wife in the fucking universe, and there are no cameras in the bathroom. Any one of you would've done the same thing." She shrugged, shameless.

Brittany smiled and pecked her wife's cheek, before chirping, "by the way, Quinn, I'm not making do. Sanny's the one for me. Just like Rachel's the one for you."

As those words lingered awkwardly in the air, Rachel tensed and peered sheepish eyes up at Quinn, who was... already watching her with deep twinkling amusement.

The brunette cracked a grin and nudged the blonde, though she was blushing like a mother fucker. "I hate you," she quietly whined.

"I know. You make it **so **clear in the way that you're always complimenting me," Quinn chimed.

Rachel adjusted the position of her head, resting it on the blonde's shoulder at a better angle. "You're awfully sarcastic today," she whispered.

"Must be the company that I keep."

"You also look really nice today," Rachel said, swatting the air of playfulness dead.

"Thank you. I thought I'd make an effort, just in case you had any more excursions planned." Quinn winked.

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm not _that _fond of you."

"Rachel."

"Hmm?"

"You look really nice today too."

"Seriously, it's almost like watching a really bad girl-meets-girl rom-com with you two," Santana sniped.

"Brittany," Rachel cheerily began, "would you kindly take your wife into the bathroom and allow her to do whatever it is that she needs to do, so that the rest of us may enjoy peaceful lives?"

"No comment," Brittany replied, smirking.

Horrified by the topic of conversation, Emma quickly cleared her throat. "Getting back to more... _pressing _matters," she stressed, "do I have all of your votes?"

"Everybody h-hates Finn," Tina said. "He's going tonight."

"She's right, Emma. You've got nothing to worry about," Quinn agreed. "I can't think of one person who'll vote to evict you over Finn. He's toast."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Jesus, Emma. We need to stick together, which means that you've got our support. How many times do you need to hear us say it?"

Emma pinned her with a severe look. "Until I start to believe it," she replied, snappish.

"Well _believe _that there's an all guy alliance in the house. If we lose you tonight, we're gonna be a woman down, and none of us want that."

Brittany nodded. "Amen to that."

Rachel and Tina, along with Emma, frowned, confusion etching their foreheads.

"An all male alliance?" Rachel repeated. She lifted her head from Quinn's shoulder, and sat up.

"Yeah, I told doll face over there to fill you in."

Rachel looked to Quinn. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't think that - wait, are you mad at me?" the blonde asked, kind of amused by the notion that the theatrical little woman _was _mad at her.

"I'm far from angry. I'd just like to know why you wouldn't say anything when Santana specifically expressed that she'd like for you to fill me in."

Quinn wasn't stupid. She knew that tone. It was the same tone that her last boyfriend would fall victim to when paranoid that she'd been out cheating, as opposed to at work.

Only, Rachel wasn't paranoid because she suspected an infidelity of the romantic sense. She was paranoid because she suspected an infidel breach of their two-person alliance.

"I think I'm gonna go get dinner started," the blonde announced, shuffling off of the bed and ushering out of the room.

It took Rachel half a second to run out after her.

"Someone's sleepin' on the couch tonight," Brittany commented, as she leaned over to grab the bag of chips from Emma's snack basket...

"I'm afraid of you, Quinn," Rachel suddenly confessed.

They'd made it into the kitchen area, where the blonde had begun to search the cupboards for ingredients.

But now she wasn't looking for anything. She was leaned up against the fridge, wondering why Rachel looked so terrified. "Why are you afraid of me?" she asked softly.

The brunette sighed and cupped her face for a few moments.

"Rachel..."

"Quinn, I really really like you, and I guess I just didn't like thinking that -"

"I was somehow in with the all guy alliance, didn't want to further blow their cover, and that's why I didn't say anything to you?" Quinn finished for her.

Rachel's silence spoke volumes.

"Stop worrying. I'm with _you _in this house. I haven't made any deals with anyone behind your back. I hope you haven't either."

"I-I... haven't," Rachel said, peering at her own hands.

Quinn nodded, sighing. "I didn't say anything about the all male alliance because I don't trust Santana, and I wanted to find out if it was true first. That's all."

The brunette gave a somewhat chastised nod, and then said, "Is it perverted that a part of me likes this stern side of you?"

Quinn was powerless to stop her chuckle. "I wasn't being stern. But if you say so... pervert," she teased, popping the _P._

Rachel smiled, sensing that order was restoring itself.

That didn't, however, mean that she wasn't going to help speed it up a little with some honesty. "I'm afraid of you, because after our date last night, I've allowed myself to believe that there could be something special between us. When I considered that you were perhaps planning to betray me, I wasn't even afraid for my game. I was afraid for my feelings, and that's not how it's supposed to be in here."

"I know," Quinn murmured.

And she did know, because the thought of the sensitive brunette twisting a knife into her back, and scheming behind closed doors, bothered her feelings too.

"Welcome to the paranoia that is the Big Brother game," she declared, chuckling gently. "I do believe that we've found ourselves in quite the predicament. But we're human. We want Finn gone because our feelings tell us that we don't like him. Not because he's any sort of threat to us in the game; he honestly doesn't even seem like he can even tie his own shoelaces."

Rachel snorted, and Quinn pattered towards her.

"Emotions are going to play a major part in here, no matter which way you try to spin it. This game is designed to fuck with us. We're... just gonna have to deal with that," the blonde added, poking the brunette in the rib. "As long as we communicate well, we should be okay."

Rachel swatted the playful finger away. "No poking. You may hit a sensitive spot."

"All of you is sensitive. I don't know how you ever thought you'd come in here and be the stoic ice queen. The way that you seem to deal with emotion is a large part of what makes you so intriguing."

Rachel smiled. But what she didn't say was that her fathers were up to their eyeballs in medical bills, and that the stress of it all was starting to take a toll on their health, and that _that _was why she'd somehow imagined that she'd be able to enter the house and play the stoic ice queen, in order to win the half a million dollars whilst encountering as little complication as possible.

But it now seemed as though that ship had sailed...

Despite its slow and insidious infiltration of some of the other houseguests, the notorious Big Brother paranoia hadn't yet touched Sam. He was in a jovial kind of mood, because by tomorrow morning, not only would he have survived the first week. But Finn would also be gone.

It was smiles all around.

The surfer was bouncing down the hallway, when he halted at the sight of a door that...previously hadn't been there.

He chuckled because there was, like, no way that the Big Brother game had already sent him crazy. Not just five days in.

The sunflower yellow door peered at him as he took his eyes down its panels. "Hmm," Sam hummed, cranking the handle, only to find that it was locked.

He took a small step back, and swiftly noticed that there was an obscure mathematical equation scrawled onto the yellow wood, in the upper right corner. Beside it was an equals symbol, and beside that was a small digital touch-pad panel, where Sam presumed that the answer to the equation could be submitted.

"F times P," he whispered, his mind ticking over.

But to no avail...

"Jacob!" he called, maybe once or twice.

After the third bellow of his name, Jacob - who'd settled down with Will to convince him that, like everyone else in life, Finn deserved a second chance – rushed off in search of Sam's voice.

"Where are you?"

"Hallway, bro!"

Initially, Jacob's eyes widened at the sight of the stark yellow door. Then he frowned and pressed his palm to the wall, feeling for anything that would explain how Big Brother had knocked the previous wall out and replaced it so swiftly. "This wasn't here yesterday… was it?"

"Nope," Sam replied. "There's a math equation up there too. See?"

Jacob nodded. "Indeed."

The nerdy little man had seen tasks such as this before, on previous seasons of the show…

"The equation says F times P," Sam offered, ruffling his hair at the back. "Dude, what could F and P be?"

"Well it's obvious. There's something in the house that begins with F, and there's something in the house that begins with P. We have to count how many there are of each object and multiply them together for the answer."

Sam wound his arm around the little man's shoulders in appreciation. "You are, like, _so_ smart! I never would have thought of that."

Jacob smiled, rubbing his chin curiously. "The F could stand for forks," he theorized.

"No way. I'll go count all of the forks."

"_Or_," Jacob said, "it could represent the number of fishes in the aquarium that's built into the wall."

"It could be," Sam chirped, just grateful for the adventure and mystery of it all. "You go count the fishes, and I'll go count the forks. Then we'll try to figure out what the P represents."

Three sets of five forks laid out on the kitchen counter later, Sam was growing seriously excited. It was almost as though he was playing one of those room escape games on his tablet, but instead of trying to escape, the goal was to get in.

"You seem to be enjoying yourself there," Quinn observed, as she shut the oven door and shuffled towards the sink. "But I'm gonna need that counter space soon, so…"

Sam nodded. "Sure."

"What are you doing anyway?"

Sam grinned, glancing back at the woman. "There's a new room in the house. I found it earlier, but it's locked."

Quinn's eyebrows gravitated towards her hairline. "A new room? Seriously? Where?"

"In the hallway next to the cabana room, where it used to just be a bare wall. There's a math equation locking it; F multiplied by P. So I'm counting the _forks_, just in case they amount to one of the numbers that we need to multiply by P." He frowned and scratched his head. "Haven't figured out what the P represents though."

Quinn chuckled, because the man's child-like spirit was nice to watch. "There are more forks in the dishwasher. Don't forget to count them too."

Sam's lips eased into a soft smile, and then he winked at the beautiful woman, who was actually nowhere near as intimidating as he'd made her out to be in his head, thanks to how gorgeous she was. "Thanks for the tip Quinn."

Finding that the intrigue had also seeped into her psyche, the hazel-eyed blonde took her probing gaze around the kitchen, and the open living area. Then it struck her, just as her eyes settled upon the memory wall. "Maybe," she drawled, "P represents the pictures on the memory wall. There are twelve, because there are twelve houseguests."

Sam ceased his counting, mouth agape. "Oh my God! I think you're, like, right!"

Quinn merely winked at the young man, and went on about preparing dinner.

Some fifteen minutes later, news of the locked room had spread throughout the house, and Sam had gotten his number. He'd even checked all of the rooms for dirty dishes that may not have yet been returned to the kitchen.

There were a total of thirty forks in the house.

All houseguests, excluding Finn, Will, Emma, and Tina, had gathered in the narrow hallway, watching as Sam and Jacob poised themselves to punch in the product of thirty multiplied by twelve.

"The answer's three-hundred-and-sixty," Artie offered, when Sam and Jacob began to putter over what the equation's answer was.

Somewhere near the back of the crowd, Brittany whispered, "I'm scared," into her wife's ear. "What if there's something bad on the other side of the door?"

"Why do you think I haven't said anything other than, 'don't open it,' baby? Big Brother's a twisted mother fucker. There's definitely somethin' bad behind that door."

"You think so?" Puck asked, having overheard their conversation.

"I don't know, guys. I think it'll be something fun," Quinn said, smiling amusement as she shrugged and bumped her shoulder into Rachel's. "What do you think, silent one?"

"Well… I have no idea what to think."

"That's a first," Quinn quipped, receiving a playfully reproachful nudge to the side. She lifted her arm and wound it around the petite brunette's shoulders, pulling her in close. "We're going to need the bodily contact for support, just in case a monster jumps out at us."

"Any excuse to get your hands on me," Rachel teased, grinning up at the blonde.

"Hmm. No comment."

"Three-hundred-and-sixty's the wrong answer. The door's still locked," Sam suddenly announced, glum and disappointed.

"Hold on a sec – we haven't tried the number of fishes. There are eight. So let's do eight multiplied by twelve, and see what happens," Jacob suggested.

Now eight multiplied by twelve was a sum that Sam knew the answer to. He reached up and punched nine and six into the digital touch-pad.

And just like that the door clicked…

There was a collective gasp of excitement, mixed in with something distinctly cautious.

"Open the door then, dude!" Puck pushed, unable to contain his curiosity.

Sam cranked the door handle down, and pushed.

What greeted the houseguests was a moderately sized room, which was laid with Flixi-Hard flooring and all of the workout equipment that a gym enthusiast could dream of.

"Score!" Sam cheered, as he bounced right into the room and sat down on the ab crunch machine.

"Well what do you know, Rachel? Now you'll get to watch Quinn sweat," Santana jibed, sniggering to herself.

Rachel blushed, because she certainly was not opposed to seeing Quinn sweat. "Look, they even have Yoga balls," she chirped, deciding to ignore the antagonistic latina's comment, just like Quinn seemed to be.

In fact, Quinn had followed into the new gym straight after Sam, a look of excitement dancing in her features.

Puck gently pushed his way through everybody, and also entered the room. He looked around, surveying each gadget. "Hell yeah! Now the Puckasaurus can work on his guns!"

As they watched from the doorway, Jacob and Artie were not all that excited. Mostly because they were not the biggest gym bunnies. Chess and technological gadgets were more their thing.

But whatever. At least now they could work out if the mood ever struck.

"Hey, what's this?" Quinn asked, picking up the white card that lay on the treadmill's feedback panel.

All fell silent.

The hazel-eyed blonde turned the card over in her hands... which read:

_Enjoy your gym equipment, for it is bittersweet. _

_You know not what you've unleashed. _

_Following the reveal of the first evictee, _

_two new houseguests will receive a key._

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**Hmmmmm. Eviction up next! ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A slightly longer chapter this time. Thanks to everyone who reviewed ;) Glad you are enjoying the faberry progress :D To those of you who said thank you, awwww. How sweet that you're thanking me for writing this. Thank YOU!**

**dgronison, you may just get your wish, regarding jacob.**

**Original-Badass, this has nothing to do with anything. But I love your profile pic. Hey Arnold was the shit, and is still one of my fav ever cartoons ;)**

**Xom, thanks for the reassurance. I worry that I am not describing certain Big Brother happenings correctly. So thanks for the reassurance.**

* * *

As the majority of houseguests finished up their dinner, Quinn was settling in the diary room. She was sat in the plush chair, one leg elegantly lapping the other, the riddle from the gym still clasped within her hand.

Maybe Big Brother could shed some light.

"Is anybody in today?" she teased, upon the radio silence.

"_Big Brother is always available_."

Quinn bit her lip and nodded, something impish underlying her energy. "Are you _available _to wash and hoover my car tomorrow? Beth likes to eat in the front seat, even though I'm always telling her not to." Like the goof that she was, the blonde leaned forward and cupped her mouth, as if to share a secret. "There are crumbs _everywhere_," she whispered.

Silence played out, stretching on and on with every second...

Quinn chuckled, because whenever she tried to get informal with Big Brother, they always stopped responding. "Why don't you just hurry it on up, and ask me about Rachel, like you do every time I come in here."

"_Why have you come to the diary room, Quinn?_"

"Not playing ball today? No?" the blonde asked, before shrugging. "Alright, well I've come to get some clarification on this?" she said, holding up the piece of card that she'd found in the gym. "Everyone's speculating themselves into a frenzy out there. Can you shed some certainty on what it means? Does it mean what we think it means - that when Finn leaves, tonight, two new houseguests will be joining us?"

"_Regarding your question, Big brother can only advise houseguests to... expect the unexpected._"

Quinn ran the tip of her tongue back and forth her top lip in thought, for a moment. "Well," she then said, clearing her throat so that it would be fit for emitting sounds of sarcastic cheer, "you've just been _so _delightfully helpful that I'd like to speak to somebody about getting you a raise. How would I go about doing that?"

"_If that is all, Quinn, you are now free to leave the diary room_."

The blonde laughed. "Until next time then."

The moment that she walked out of the diary room, all eyes darted towards her expectantly.

Except for Emma's, because Emma couldn't have given any less fucks about the riddle's meaning if she tried.

"We're outta luck, guys. They're not gonna confirm or deny anything," Quinn announced, crossing the open space.

"Figures," Artie mumbled.

Santana leaned on the kitchen counter, watching as puzzlement ran rampant in her fellow houseguests' faces. "Jeez, it's not rocket science guys. We're getting two new houseguests tonight, thanks to Sam and his insatiable curiosity."

"Hey!" Sam mumbled around a mouthful of food.

When the scathing latina shot him a dark daring glare, he merely shrugged and set about finishing his dinner.

Off in the near distance, Santana could hear her wife pushing out reps on the rowing machine. The breaths, the pants, the mechanical sound of the equipment - it all sounded so fucking hot, especially since she hadn't been able to make Brittany pant like that in five long days.

Yes, indeed. When Surfer Mcfishlips had pushed open that yellow door, the only thing that he'd _unleashed _was a lifetime of... sexual fucking frustration.

"I can't believe I have to listen to that, without getting to act on it," she grumbled.

"Yeah," Puck sighed, leaning towards Emma. "Dude, when are we gonna get to hear you sweat like that?" he whispered, wriggling his eyebrows.

The redhead side-eyed the uncouth man, her top lip turned up in disdain. "Never. Dude," she replied.

Puck leaned out of the uptight woman's space, cocked his leg up on the sofa, and ruffled his mohawk. "I haven't jerked off since I got here. So if we do get two new houseguests tonight, it better be two hot chicks. Two hot chicks who have little to no self-respect, and are willin' to help alleviate Puckzilla's sexual frustration," he salivated, to which an intolerant Emma shot him evils. "Dude, what did I do now?" he asked, clicking his tongue.

"Can we please just get the _freaking _eviction out of the way, before we start to worry about that damn riddle?" Emma snapped. "Jesus!"

It was all that Artie and Quinn could do not to look at one another and burst out laughing, because they suddenly felt as though they shouldn't speak or even breathe too loudly, which of course just made them want to howl all the more.

Santana was anything but amused though. Mostly due to the unfortunate fact that she'd actually found the redhead's outburst to be somewhat hot, which was just fucking weird, even by her standards. "The perils of sexual frustration," she mumbled to herself.

Not that she was alone in her thoughts. Puck stared at the redhead, running his gaze from her cute face, to her pert shapely figure, all the way down to her porcelain toes. He didn't know how he'd missed it before, but Emma was fucking hot! Sure, she was a little eccentric - the type to kill a bird and leave its bloody mangled feathers on your doorstep, if you ever broke her heart. But still bangable nevertheless.

In that moment, he caught himself thinking that it was a shame that she'd be going home so soon...

Quinn leaned on the back of the sofa, just over where Rachel was curled up. She casually reached her hand down, watching as her pale fingers effortlessly glided through the soft chestnut strands that belonged to the petite woman. "Wake up," she whispered, as if to coax a puppy.

Rachel's wilting eyelids jaunted open. She glanced up into upside down hazel eyes, noting - even in her sleepy state - that upside down or not, they were still two of the most beautiful eyes that she'd ever seen. She gently cleared her throat. "Thanks for cooking dinner, Quinn. Once again, it was delicious. In fact, it got me so good that I seem to have eaten myself into some sort of stupor."

"I don't mind cooking for you, because I know that come rain or burnt pasta, you'll always say nice things about my food. So you're welcome." The hazel-eyed blonde smiled, only for it to wane as she added, "but you can't go to sleep yet. We still have the eviction, the live HOH comp, and the riddle thing to deal with tonight."

The brunette released a relaxed sigh, basking in the sensation of Quinn's fingers gently drawing through her hair. "That feels nice," she murmured.

"You have incredibly soft hair," Quinn curiously remarked, noting the difference between how it felt to run her fingers through a woman's hair like this, opposed to a man's. "It's a lot softer than mine. I'm gonna have to go through your shampoo stash one of these days."

In response, Rachel merely hummed contentedly.

"I should probably stop before you start snoring, shouldn't I?"

"I don't snore," Rachel replied, vaguely offended. "I sort of... wheeze in my sleep, or so I've been told."

Quinn smirked. "I share a bedroom with you, Rachel. I know your pre-bedtime ritual, and _all_ of your sleep secrets."

"Well now that I know you've been lying awake at night, listening to me sleep, getting to sleep tonight shouldn't be a problem for me at _all_."

The blonde laughed. "I have this little flashlight that I shine on your face whilst you sleep, too. Sort of like a serial killer. The only thing that's stopping me from _getting you_," she growled, briefly shaking Rachel's shoulders, "is all the cameras in the house."

"Well if I stumble upon your little flashlight, I'm going to break it. Now, Quinn, refrain from trying to keep me awake. Or at least refrain from being so transparent about trying to keep me awake."

"How are you so perceptive?"

"I'm the brains and you're the blonde. Remember?"

Quinn gasped, leaning back in mock affront. "What on earth happened to the sweet woman who put herself through a bowl of slop, last night, so that I wouldn't feel left out?"

Rachel's lips twitched with a lazy smirk. "She was gotten by the gorgeous blonde creeper who watches her sleep."

"Hmm," Quinn hummed, as if considering the validity of the brunette's claim. "I think you should ask Emma if you can go sleep in the HOH room for a while," she suddenly suggested, really noticing just how beat Rachel looked. "I'll wake you up when it's time for the eviction."

"Only if you come with me," Rachel purred.

"I suggested that you go sleep in the HOH room because it's quiet up there, unlike with the bedrooms down here. If I was to come up there with you, you and I both know that it would be _anything _but quiet."

Rachel's eyelids shot all the way up with an almost comical alertness. She slowly gulped at the sexual images that the blonde's flirtatious words had amassed in her mind, and decided it best to focus on ignoring the twitch that thrummed in her lower regions. "Please don't say things like that," she groaned, to which Quinn giggled quietly.

"I was referring to us _talking_, Rachel. Yikes; you really are a pervert, aren't you?"

"No, I'm not putting on the pervert hat this time. If you'd only meant talking, you would not have said it in the husky and flirtatious manner with which you said it," the brunette protested. "You were trying to get me all hot and bothered. Just admit it, and I won't thump you whilst you sleep tonight."

"Guess you'll never know."

With that, Quinn chuckled and wandered off, leaving Rachel incredibly tense and perhaps even a little sticky... down there. Either way, she was most certainly awake now.

"Don't sweat it, Rach," Artie knowingly chimed. "Just get even." He winked the brunette's way, and left it at that.

Rachel couldn't help but think that the young man had a point. She allowed herself a slow-burning smirk, because Quinn had just upped the ante.

* * *

Two hours had trotted by before the ominous, "_will all_ _houseguests gather on the sofas_!" rumbled throughout the house.

Most were already sat on the sofas, goofing and talking about this and that. Until Big Brother's swift prompting had put a stop to all conversation, that is.

Emma sat up straight. "Where's Finn?" she asked, eager to get the eviction process started, in order to keep from having a nervous breakdown.

Beside the antsy woman, Will offered a soothing smile. "I'm pretty sure that you have nothing to worry about tonight," he told the clearly anxious woman.

"Can I count on you to vote Finn out?"

Will swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "Of course."

Emma narrowed her eyes. "I just hope you're not lying to me, Will."

Under different circumstances, Puck might have chuckled at the death glare that the older man was receiving. But he was just as nervous as Emma was, and there was no room for laughter.

It was crunch time!

Just then Finn trudged out of the bedroom. He brushed past Jacob and Sam's knees, and miserably plonked himself down on the sofa.

He couldn't believe that he was in such a position. He'd at least wanted to make it past the first week. This was all Rachel's fault. If she hadn't been a dirty little dyke, they might have gotten together and ruled the house.

"You all packed up and ready to leave, big man?" came a voice from his left.

Jacob's voice.

Finn glared at the nerdy little man, who had, in all honesty, just been trying to cover his tracks with the smug little question. Because when Emma left and Finn stayed, and all hell broke loose in the house, Jacob wanted to be able to deny ever voting Emma out convincingly.

Across from the two men, Brittany giggled at Jacob's brazen goading and snuggled into her wife's neck. "You're tense," she whispered into Santana's smooth caramel-colored chin.

"Lack of sex will do that, baby."

"Maybe I'll do something to remedy that later."

Santana said nothing. She just smirked and ran her hand up and down her wife's shoulder.

"I'm tense too, Quinn," Rachel said. "What are you going to do to help remedy that?"

The blonde stared at the shorter woman for a few moments, before slowly arching an eyebrow. "Are you being perverted again?" she asked, as if musing aloud.

Rachel grinned. "Guess you'll never know."

Before Quinn could spout something clever and sarcastic back, the flat screen TV flickered on, broadcasting live footage of the glamorous Julie Chen, who was once again stood just outside of the house, on the glass steps.

"Hello houseguests," she greeted, smiling that knowing smile.

"Hey Julie," the house chorused.

"I hope everyone has enjoyed their first five days in the house?"

The beautiful host's remark was met with a mixture of cheers and weary groans.

She chuckled, particularly at the groans, and ran her thumb along the edge of her cue cards. "Sam, the man who almost _always _has his shirt off; let me start with you tonight," she chimed.

The surfer - who was in fact topless again - sat up straight and gave Julie his best grin.

"You were the first to discover the locked yellow door. I hope you put all of the forks back when you were done fruitlessly counting them."

The houseguests chuckled, most shooting the happy-go-lucky surfer a look of fondness.

"Yeah, Julie. Quinn made me stack them all in the dishwasher when I was done, 'cause I got my fingerprints on most of them," Sam chirped, shrugging a shoulder.

"Good," Julie quipped. "After you managed to get into the gym, you learned that it comes with a mysterious price tag. What did you make of the riddle?"

"Uh..." Sam patted his hair down at the back. "I think it, like, means we're getting two newbies tonight?"

"Hmmm," Julie hummed. "Interesting. Let me move onto you, Rachel."

The brunette smiled and gave a small wave. "Hi Julie."

"Don't hi Julie me," the host jested. "Let's get straight into the date that warmed America's heart."

Rachel felt her cheeks heat up. "If we must," she joked, looking to Quinn, who also seemed to be growing a little red in the cheeks at this point.

"We must, Rachel. I have to say that, along with America, I was warmed by the planning that went into it. Seemed as though the lady beside you was too," Julie poked.

"No comment," Quinn squeaked, to which many of the houseguests giggled.

"Well, from the time that I've spent in Quinn's company so far, it hasn't been difficult for me to deduce that she's a... special kind of lady," Rachel said, bringing about a more serious energy. "I just wish we'd met outside of this place; I would have wined and dined her properly."

"Thank you, Rach. I don't think I'll ever get used to you holding me in such high esteem. Nobody else seems to give a damn. But saying that," Quinn drawled, "who's to say that I wouldn't have been the one to wine and dine you?" she asked. "'I can wine and dine with the best of 'em."

Rachel chuckled softly. "I know; I've tasted your cooking," she responded. "But -"

Finn watched Quinn whisper something presumably flirtatious into Rachel's ear. Something that ceased the movement of the brunette's lips and made her smile her warmest smile.

He rolled his eyes.

The amount of faggotry in the house was astounding.

Julie laughed. "Alright Quinn, well I don't want to start a war for dominance between you two over who'll get to pay the restaurant bill, so... Brittany and Santana!"

The couple perked up, Brittany waving her hand off at the TV screen. "You look hot tonight, Julie," she chirped.

"Thank you, Brittany. We watched you and your wife hide your marriage this week. How difficult was that for you?" Julie asked.

"Pretty difficult, right San?"

"Yep. There were moments when I genuinely thought I was gonna punch somebody," Santana confessed, so casual about her penchant for violence.

"But now we get to kiss and cuddle and stuff. So it's all good," Brittany merrily added.

"Okay. But I'd like to know one thing: how's the slop?" the knowing host probed, waiting for it...

A chorus of pained groans left any and everybody who'd ever tasted the stuff.

"That's what I thought," Julie sniggered. "Emma! You were the HOH this week. What went through your mind when you discovered that Brittany and Santana were the secret couple?"

"I was extremely worried, knowing that I was going up on the block. I felt frustrated. Watching them together now though - it seems so obvious that they were the secret couple," Emma answered, glancing at the two snuggled up women. "But Rachel and Quinn's chemistry was just too tangible for me to push aside. So I went with those two, and now here I am. Up on the block."

Not one ear in the place failed to detect the bitterness that hid beneath the redhead's cheer.

"Well Emma, Finn. It is time to determine which of you will be leaving the Big Brother house tonight. In just a few moments, your fellow houseguests will cast their votes to evict live. But before they do, you both have one last chance to plead your case. Finn, you're first."

Following Julie's instruction, Finn stood up and awkwardly brushed imaginary lint from his pants. "Uh... It's been a bumpy ride. I hate the slop. It makes me tired and grumpy, and should be banned in the USA. Uh... vote to evict Emma, because she's smarter than I am. Yeah..."

Tina frowned, sort of taking pity on the awkward man. The second-hand embarrassment was palpable, and **so **uncomfortable.

"Uh... thank you, Finn," Julie stepped in. "Emma, it's your turn."

The lady-like redhead stood, her pale hands clasped before her abdomen. "I'd just like to say thanks to everybody for this experience. It's been fun, if not more than a little trying at times. I hope that you all vote to evict Finn, because he has rubbed everyone the wrong way at least once, and I'll kill you all if you don't." She giggled so girlishly that it almost convinced the other houseguests that she wasn't being serious. Almost. "I want to stay. I've been told that I'm going to stay by more or less everybody in this house. So if I go, you all should know that you're living with a bunch of liars, whose word is good for nothing."

Rachel nodded as the woman's sobering words resonated within her. As far as she was concerned, Finn was leaving. Or, at least, he'd _better _be leaving.

And if he didn't leave, well... she was going to go absolutely ape shit, and quite possibly embarrass herself in front of Quinn, which she **really** did not want to happen.

Puck, Tina, and Artie kept their gazes low, whilst Jacob smiled kind reassurance towards Emma. "You've got nothing to worry about," he mouthed at her.

"Thank you Emma. It is now time for the first live vote of the summer to begin. Neither nominee is allowed to vote. Brittany and Santana, as you were the secret couple you will only vote in the event of a tie," Julie clarified, confirming both Brittany and Jacob's theory. "One at a time, the rest of you will enter the diary room and cast your vote to evict! Rachel, you're up first."

Rachel stood, purring, "my pleasure," over her shoulder as she headed towards the diary room.

Once seated in the diary room chair, she tucked a few strands of hair behind her ear, clasped her hands in her lap, and waited for Julie's voice to filter into the snug space.

She wasn't made to wait long. "Rachel, please cast your vote to evict."

"It is with _great _joy that I vote to evict Finn."

"Thank you, Rachel. Please rejoin the others."

The brunette nodded and headed back into the living area, where Jacob was already waiting outside of the diary room door.

As they crossed paths, they hi-fived in their supposed unity against Finn.

Little did Rachel know…

The nerdy little man smirked to himself and entered the small room, where he sat down in the leather chair and adjusted his glasses.

"Jacob, please cast your vote to evict," Julie prompted.

"I vote to evict Emma," he said, without a moment's hesitation.

"Thank you Jacob. You're now free to return to the living area."

He passed Puck on his way out.

The two men shared a conspiratorial look, before the muscular mohawk-sporting man vanished into the diary room.

He heaved a heavy sigh, and sat down.

"Noah, would you please cast your vote to evict."

"Julie, I regretfully vote to evict... Emma," Puck said, noting how strange the redhead's name had sounded as he'd forced it out through his teeth.

"Thank you Noah. Please rejoin the others."

Next to enter the diary room was Sam. He'd been waiting for this glorious moment since his first run-in with Finn out in the garden.

And now it had finally arrived.

"Sam, please cast your vote to evict."

"Gladly," he beamed, grinning from ear to ear. "I vote to evict that homophobic, ignorant waste of space, Finn."

"That was quite a mouthful," Julie chuckled. "Nevertheless, thank you. You're free to rejoin your fellow houseguests."

In what had somehow become the trend, Quinn playfully hi-fived Sam before she pulled open the diary room door and shuffled inside.

"Quinn, please cast your vote to evict."

The hazel-eyed blonde saw no reason to drag it out. "I vote to evict Finn," she said, assigning emphasis to the pale man's name with a punctuating nod of the head.

"Thank you, Quinn. You're now free to return to the living area."

Artie voted next. Little did he know that his vote to evict Emma had put the overall vote at three all.

Just two more votes remained to be cast.

Will and Tina's.

Jacob was sure to make pointed eye contact with the stammering woman as she stood up, and ambled to the diary room...

"Tina, please cast your vote to evict."

Tina sighed, her dark eyes depicting the level of thought that had gone into her imminent decision. She sucked in a breath, held it, and said, "I've d-decided - I vote to evict... F-Finn, Julie."

"Thank you, Tina. You are free to return to the living area."

"T-Thanks Julie," Tina murmured.

When she returned to the sofas, she made it a point to avoid Jacob's self-satisfied gaze. Sure, he was going to be irritated about the fact that she'd gone against his suggestion. But at least she'd be able to sleep at night, knowing that she'd done the right thing, not only for the overall morale of the house. But for Emma too.

Shortly after, Will made his way to the diary room.

The man raked his fingers back through his curls, and relaxed in the chair.

"Will, please cast your vote to evict."

"Well Julie, I believe in giving people a second chance. As Jacob pointed out to me, earlier in the day, Finn surely deserves one. But this is Big Brother, and I have to go with where I think the majority vote lies, otherwise everybody is going to want to know why I voted apart from them, and from there I'll become a house target. So, I vote to evict Finn." Will smiled somewhat tightly following his speech, all the while baring no clue as to the fact that his vote had just sealed the final nail in Finn's coffin.

"Thank you, Will. If you'll return to the sofas, I'll announce the results."

"Sure."

It wasn't long before Will was once again seated on the sofas, anxiously awaiting the announcement of the results, like everyone else.

Beside him, Emma almost seemed as though she was fighting off hyperventilation.

"I hope you all voted Emma out," Finn mumbled, fiddling with his belt buckle like a petulant child.

"Shut up!" the redhead spat.

As all eyes glided up and settled upon the TV screen, a certain tension materialized, because this was it. The moment where everybody would discover where the chips had fallen...

"Houseguests," Julie began, reappearing on the television screen, "the votes are in. When I reveal the vote, the evicted houseguest will have just a few moments to say goodbye, gather their belongings, and walk out the front door. I can now reveal that by a vote of five to three..." She paused for maximum suspense, and then said, "Finn, **you** have been evicted from the Big Brother house."

"Fuck this house!" Finn grunted. "I wanted to leave anyway." The tall man tore up out of his seat and stomped off into the bedroom to collect his suitcase, muttering a resentful, "you're all a bunch of faggots," under his breath.

Not that anybody had heard the malicious slur.

Emma certainly hadn't. She was much too busy pressing her hand to her lurching chest, and allowing the fact that she wasn't going home to sink in. "Even though it _wasn't_ a clean sweep, t-thank you everyone," she said, panting almost as though she'd just spent forty minutes on the treadmill.

"Uh... c-congrats Emma," Puck stammered out, shooting a clandestine look of bewilderment at Jacob, who'd taken to glaring at both Tina and Will.

"Yeah, congratulations," Artie said, figuring that he'd better act like he hadn't just voted to evict the relieved woman.

"Thank you."

Despite the smiles, and congratulations, and utterances of gratitude, all was far from dandy...

"So who the fuck were the three votes to evict Emma?" Santana asked, vocalizing what most were thinking. She combed accusatory eyes over everyone who was present, save Emma.

"Funny that, Santana. I was pondering the _exact _same thing," Rachel said, everything suddenly so serious.

"Me too," a frowning Sam jumped in. "I thought everyone was, like, on the same page about kicking that asshole out of the house?"

Quinn's eyebrows, which had both been arched in shock for the last few minutes, still hadn't returned to normal. "I'm... blown away right now," she rasped. "I thought it'd be a clean sweep for sure. Looks like we have three liars amongst us."

"Well they're not gonna get away with it," Puck growled, surprising even himself with how convincing he'd sounded.

Tina kept her mouth shut, choosing not to out Jacob as one of the culprits. At least not yet anyway.

Will did the same...

Whilst no one else seemed to have anything to say, Rachel did. "Fine!" she barked. "Whoever you are, know that I'm eventually going to identify you! And you'd better hope that I don't win the competition that's taking place in just a few moments!"

Quinn placed a placating hand to the furious brunette's back. She could actually feel the raucous echo of Rachel's heart pulsing against her palm. "Try to calm down," she whispered. "Finn's been evicted and that's the main thing. Plus, you don't wanna make yourself a target right before the HOH comp."

Rachel softened a smidge. "I'm going to win it, so it really doesn't matter. I just – I _really_ didn't want you to see this side of me. I apologize. But I'm absolutely furious," she huffed.

"I know," Quinn told her, her voice calm, intimate, and soothing. "And I'm hardly in a position to judge you, because I have a fucking evil temper of my own when I'm heated. We'll worry about the mystery votes later. Right now we need to prepare ourselves for whatever they're gonna throw at us for the HOH competition. It could be an all-night endurance thing for all we know."

Though she still frowned, the brunette nodded. "O-Okay Quinn."

"Can I just say that I'm totally with you, Rachel," Jacob spoke up. "The traitors have **got **to go!" he stressed, running scared at this point.

Not only had he failed to keep the biggest target in the house. But he'd, essentially, set the majority of the other houseguests off on a warpath in search of a new common enemy.

Himself.

Finn stomped out of the bedroom just then, dragging his bumbling suitcase behind him. He didn't bother to throw the houseguests a second glance. He merely cranked open the front door, and slipped out through it, allowing it to slam behind him with a finality that was demonstrative only of a disgruntled evictee.

None of the houseguests would get the chance to enjoy the sight of his grayed-over picture though, because up on the landing, peering down at them, stood two new houseguests who were each sipping from a glass of champagne.

"This is so strange," the slightly nervous effeminate man whispered. "Look at me - even forgetting to introduce myself. I'm Kurt."

"Nice to meet you, Kurt. I'm Bryony. Ready to take this house by its balls?"

* * *

**;)**


	13. Chapter 13

**Whoo! Chapter 13 already. You guys must think I have no life with how fast I seem to be getting these updates out lol.**

**Who Bryony is seemed to go over a lot of your heads, strangely enough. She has been mentioned a couple of times throughout the story already. I guess if you don't know who she is, you will by the time you get done reading this chapter lol.**

**To the guest reviewer who said that I was using a weak writing tactic with Finn's characterization, I won't justify my creation. It just is and speaks for itself. No justification needed. Please go and find a fic that makes you happy ;) If this one annoys you, then there are a thousand other Faberry fics out there that may be more for you. You inspired me to get this chapter out even faster, so thanks ;)**

**Jo, lol. I knew that you were onto me since a few chapters ago hahaha. And don't say that this fic is your fav right now. The pressure just may kill me lol ;) THANK YOU for your input.**

**Original-Badass, I don't understand why Hey Arnold isn't more widely appreciated. It was so profound for a kid cartoon, and it had some of the best moral messages woven into the storylines. Not to mention that beautiful melancholic yet groovy jazz music by Jim Lang. I have a few of the songs on my mp3? Just an amazing creation. I'm glad you're starting to warm to Santana. She isn't all bad ;)**

**Haelthy, below is what happens next ;)**

**Thanks for the comments everyone.**

* * *

Rachel had yet to come out of the bathroom...

She'd been able to slip away, her presence lost in the frenzy of the two new houseguest's abrupt arrival. Like angry parents who suddenly smile when strangers visit, the houseguests had shaken their feelings of betrayal regarding Finn's five to three vote. They'd put on smiles and banded together to greet the two intruders, as a united front.

All except for Rachel, whose complexion had drained as white as a sheet when Bryony had walked down the stairs, sipping champagne like it was nothing. From there the stunned brunette had issued Kurt a tepid greeting, and then she'd kept quiet whilst watching her ex giggle with an oblivious Quinn. She'd watched, at least, until she couldn't take it anymore.

So now she was hiding in the bathroom, gathering herself. Well, she was supposed to be gathering herself. But all she could do was stare at the bare white wall, scenarios of dread dancing across it...

As Bryony shook hands, and exchanged names, along with a few witty quips, she watched the bathroom door, waiting for it to open.

It never did.

Finally, she was forced to fake a frown and ask, "where's Rachel?"

Artie halted mid-ramble, tossing a searching glance around the house. "I don't know." He then frowned, so suddenly. "Wait, how do you know her name? I didn't see her introduce herself to you."

Bryony waved the inquiry off. "I know all of your names. Guess who's been watching the show? And also -"

"She's my ex," came a profoundly unenthusiastic voice from behind.

Rachel's voice.

Bryony span around and smirked. "Hey Rach. Long time no see. You look well. Still as beautiful as ever."

Tina sighed and facepalmed, her suspicions of the woman that she'd met just thirty minutes ago confirmed. This was all the house needed. More drama.

"Oooh. Big Brother is _so _fucked up for this!" Santana cackled, glancing between Rachel, Bryony, _and _Quinn, who was putting on the most equipped mask of indifference.

Either that, or the blonde genuinely didn't give a fuck.

Now that the truth behind the hot new woman's identity had settled into the silence, Brittany pouted, mumbling, "Big Bro, you totally suck." She turned to her wife. "I can't believe they did this."

Well neither could Rachel.

Ignoring Bryony's presence altogether, she pushed past her, headed towards the diary room, and repeatedly bashed the button that was built into the wall. "Let me in!" she demanded, folding her arms. "Now!"

Soon after, the button illuminated with a green glow, allowing Rachel to yank open the door and stomp into the small room.

Puck only had one thing to say: "Dude, no offense. But did all the straight people on the outside world die or somethin'?"

"I have a homophobic step-father, and unfortunately he's still alive," Kurt chimed, before taking a merry sip of champagne.

"Hey surfer boy, this is all your God damned fault," Santana accused, still chuckling from the sheer evilness of the situation.

Sam had the grace to give Quinn an apologetic look. "I'm sorry. I didn't know -"

"No, don't be so silly," Quinn interrupted, calm and poised. She batted her hand through the ruffled floral pleats of her dress, and smiled. "Sure, it's... definitely a little awkward. But I'm sure Rachel will be fine after the initial shock wears off. We're all adults here. It's not a big deal." She shrugged. "Right Bryony?"

"I'm glad that you see things that way," Bryony chirped, her overly sunny grin flatlining almost as soon as it had materialized, along with her cheery tone. "When are they gonna give us our suitcases?" she asked Kurt. "I want a cigar."

"Hmm. A fellow cigar smoker. You sound like my kind of bitch," Santana remarked, later receiving a scolding nudge from Brittany.

Bryony smirked at the handsome latina, because - married or not - she was extremely beautiful.

"I have no fucking idea when we'll get our suitcases!" Kurt merrily chimed, a little unsteady on his feet at this point.

Will placed a steadying hand to the effeminate man's back.

"Are you coming onto me?" Kurt chuckled out, slinging his hand to his hip.

Will rocked his neck back and laughed his gentle grandfather laugh. "I'm married, thank you," he said. "I just wanted to suggest that you take it easy with the alcohol. The HOH comp is coming up in just a moment, and you don't wanna be three sheets to the wind."

With the release of those words, minds began to tick over...

The Head Of Household competition would be taking place shortly, and it was very possible that one of the new houseguests could win it.

Jacob could only hope that this Bryony was still carrying a torch for Rachel, because that would mean that if Bryony somehow managed to win HOH, then Quinn would most likely be this week's target, and not him.

Though the hazel-eyed blonde sat calm and elegant, the slow drum of her fingertips against her knee cap hinted otherwise...

In the diary room, Rachel was going berserk!

"I would like to know what she's doing here **now**, Big Brother!"

"_Big Brother would like to know who you are referring to_."

"Are you kidding me?" the brunette shrieked, incensed just that little bit more by the sheer nonchalance of Big Brother. "I did not sign up for this! I would like for her to leave immediately!"

"_Rachel, why are you so upset_?"

It was at that point that the brunette realized the futility in talking to Big Brother. All they cared about was their fucking ratings, and stirring up as much drama as humanly possible.

But this wasn't a TV show to Rachel. This was her life!

For a split second, she considered packing up her things and leaving. But all of a nanosecond it lasted, swiftly washed away by thoughts of her parents. By thoughts of Quinn, who she'd only known for five days, and wanted to go on knowing.

She lifted her chin up, strong, like her parents had always taught her to. "Do you know what? I'm not going to give you what you want, Big Brother. I'm going to go out there and talk to her, then I'm going to win the Head Of Household competition, and in two days she's going up on the block, where thereafter she'll be evicted. It'll be like she was never here."

Fuck the three mystery voters. Rachel now had bigger fish to fry.

Most of the houseguests had migrated to the bedrooms to hash out what the new sleeping arrangements would be, now that there were two more people to cater for.

"You could share with me," Puck offered, grinning at the hot raven-haired woman as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I _could,_" Bryony emphasized, winking at the man. "But I don't wanna wake up in the middle of the night to find that there's a snake wrapped around my thigh, if you know what I'm saying."

She chuckled and allowed herself to be led into the other bedroom by Emma, Will, Kurt, Tina, and Sam.

For a moment Puck stood there, flabbergasted. He couldn't believe that Bryony was gay. That olive skin, that silken shoulder-length raven hair. If he were to chance a guess, he'd say that she was about five foot nine of pure Italian Goddess. Deep dusky green eyes, dark accentuated eyelashes, a perfect narrow nose, a lean figure, and those red heels were just sexiness personified.

Now _she _was someone that he wouldn't mind watching in the gym. It was official. Rachel was a certified babe magnet.

"So did y-you audition f-for the show, like everyone else, Bryony?" Tina asked, sitting down on her own bed.

Will scratched the back of his neck, Sam looked to the floor, Kurt hid behind his empty glass, and Emma pretended to inspect the shelves.

Anything to escape the awkwardness.

Bryony narrowed her eyes. "CBS contacted me," she cautiously replied, before shrugging. "I guess they wanted to stir things up, and whether Rachel was here or not, I wasn't going to turn down the chance to win half a million dollars. So here I am."

Tina nodded, and looked to Kurt. "How a-about you?"

"I auditioned. They rejected me," Kurt ho-hummed, as if going through the motions. "But they also told me that I'd been listed as a back-up houseguest, and that I should stay in the country. So, _here I am_!" he flamboyantly sang.

After ten minutes of sitting in the diary room ignoring Big Brother's inane questions, Rachel emerged.

Quinn, who was loading dishes into the dishwasher, noted the air of forced determination in the brunette's eyes immediately. "Are you okay?" she called.

"I will be," Rachel said, looking around. "Where is she?" she asked.

Quinn slotted one more plate into the dishwasher's bottom tray, and then rested her lower back against the sink. "They whisked her off into the bedrooms. Now that Finn's bed's free, something tells me we're going to be rooming with your ex," she said, wriggling her eyebrows in playful scandal.

Rachel sighed, but managed a tiny smile nevertheless. "Thanks for not being weird about this," she said, fiddling with her fingers.

"Of course. I'm twenty-eight. Even if I do find toilet humor to be extremely amusing, I'm mature enough to know how to handle serious situations. Well," Quinn whispered, "barely anyway." She winked and resumed her task of filling the dishwasher.

"_Suitcases are now available for collection in the storage room!_" Big Brother suddenly announced.

There was a happy squeal, in that moment, followed by both Bryony and Kurt's eager emergence from the bedroom.

Rachel sighed again. Hearing Big Brother address the arrival of Bryony's suitcase just made the predicament seem all the more real - like it was really happening. "The mystery vote situation now seems like a picnic in the park compared to this," she told Quinn.

"Everything will be okay, Rachel. What's the worst that can happen?" _Besides Bryony coming after us_, she thought.

"You deciding that I'm not worth all the bother," Rachel replied, without missing a beat.

Quinn looked at the shorter woman for a moment that seemed to linger. Then she shut the dishwasher's door, punched the necessary buttons, and said, "I never imagined that I'd ever be a part of a showmance. I've always thought that they were a little tacky, and a risky game move. I never thought I'd ever flirt with a woman, have her flirt back, and enjoy it. But I like you, Rachel. Your ex entering the house isn't gonna change that. Stop worrying."

With the release of a long breath, Rachel relaxed and held her arms out. "Hug?"

The hazel-eyed blonde chuckled softly as she tugged the brunette into her arms, and held her. "You worry a lot, don't you?"

"Only about the things that matter to me," Rachel answered, squeezing just that little bit tighter.

"Hmm," Quinn hummed flirtatiously. "Well if push comes to shove, I'll just unleash my super deadly flashlight power, and shine it in her face whilst she sleeps."

There was no question of who _she _was.

Both women knew, and it made Rachel laugh into the blonde's shoulder. "You, Quinn, are such a goof. Thank you for taking the time to reassure me, as well as make me smile."

"Any time."

Just then, the distinct sound of two suitcases on wheels rolling across the floor rang out.

Rachel gently pulled out of the luxurious hug. "I guess I better go talk to her. Smooth things over so that the atmosphere is livable."

Quinn nodded and husked, "go do what it do, homie."

The brunette chuckled from the depths of her lungs, playfully pushing the goofy woman away. "What an idiot," she fondly rasped.

"Now I _know _you're not talking about me."

"Sorry to break up the party. But Rach, are you ready to talk?" Bryony suddenly called.

Rachel sucked in a breath, put on a tight smile, and nodded. "... Okay."

"Great. Let's take it outside, 'cause I'm going for a smoke."

Once the two ex-lovers were seated on the l-shaped sofa, out on the patio deck, Bryony sparked the end of her cigar alight.

Rachel watched the woman take the kind of drag that only ever came with practice, and wrinkled her nose at the smell. The scent of lit cigars would always remind her of Bryony. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"You're free to sit a bit closer. I promise not to bite."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, her patience already wearing thin. "I asked you a question."

Like a mafia princess, Bryony kicked back and blew free beautifully shaped clouds of billowing smoke. "You always were a worrier," she said. "But you should put that divaesque ego away. The only thing that I'm here for is the money."

Rachel scoffed, staring out at the night's sky. "We made the mistake of being together for six years - so I know when you're talking utter bullshit."

Bryony chuckled. "How are your fathers?" she asked.

"They're fine."

"How are you?"

"I'm just splendid, Bryony," Rachel chimed sarcastically. "How's _your _mother?"

"You can be as scathing as you want, but my mother never did anything to you. I know you still see her as a loved one."

Rachel rolled her eyes in reluctant resignation, because Bryony was right. Bella Astello. She was this lively loud-mouthed Italian woman, with no filter, and a penchant for seducing folks with her ostentatious yet homely cooking.

Rachel had always gotten along with her. She'd even come to see her as a mother figure - someone that she could talk to about her problems. But when things with Bryony had broken down, she'd begun to see less of Bella.

"Quinn's even prettier in person than she is on TV," Bryony suddenly remarked, taking the slow-burning cigar to her lips for another smooth hearty inhalation.

The shorter woman felt her muscles tense. But she said nothing, unwilling to discuss Quinn with someone who was of zero concern to her relationship with the blonde.

"She's just using you though, Rachel. You do know that, right?"

That was it. Rachel had heard enough. "If you think I'm going to sit here, and allow you to work your poison, you're clearly certifiable!"

In a whirlwind of dramatics, she got up to leave - when Bryony grabbed her wrist.

"She'll let you fuck her maybe once or twice when you get out of here. Then she'll eventually get bored of her little trip to lesbo land, and go back to getting down on all fours to suck cock. _Then_," the olive-skinned woman casually drawled, "you'll break up."

"Go fuck yourself!" Rachel hissed, forcefully ripping her wrist loose of Bryony's clasp. She then yanked open the sliding door, and stormed inside of the house.

"_Will all houseguests leave the garden and return to the house_!"

Bryony smirked and doused her cigar in the previously unused ashtray. She knew that Big Brother were ushering her inside of the house so that they could setup the apparatus for the HOH competition.

She also knew that if she had anything to do with it, Quinn and Rachel would barely even be on speaking terms by the time that they left the house.

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**;)**


	14. Chapter 14

**Wow is all I can say to the amount of support that I received. Thank you guys. I must now go and tend to the social life that I have been neglecting lol. Here's the next chapter ;)**

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A pair of shorts and a t-shirt clung to most as the houseguests filtered out into the garden, for the Head Of Household competition.

With Finn's unexpected five to three vote, and Bryony and Kurt's sudden arrival, there was a definite feeling of uncertainty slithering in the air, almost like nothing and no one was safe anymore.

Not that they ever were...

This feeling - it was why each houseguest had told themselves that the imminent competition was a win-at-all costs situation. Such desperation was palpable.

Well, it was in _most_. But not all.

As Kurt took his intimidated gaze up the larger than life apparatus, he gulped, wishing that he'd taken Will's earlier advice. At this point, the effeminate man was just hoping to survive. Much less win.

"I-It looks like we're going to be hung, drawn, and q-quartered," he murmured. "And on television of all things."

Sighing, Puck rubbed the back of his neck. "Dude, I say we're gonna be out here all freakin' night."

"Yep. It's definitely some sort of endurance competition," Artie grumbled beside him. A lingering yawn suddenly pried his jaws apart. "I love a good physical comp. But it's so not the night for this," he complained, studying the twelve hanging black metal poles, which were ledged at the bottom. Fit for two small feet. "Don't Big Brother think they've put us through enough today?"

"Yeah right, " Santana scoffed. "They're not gonna stop, 'til one or more of us is homicidal, or..." She bobbed her head to the side, so casual. "Suicidal."

Sam smiled. "Well, I'm up for it. I'm up for, like, anything. I'm excited. Looks like it's gonna be fun!"

Santana shot the energetic man a look of complete and utter boredom. "No offense, Bryony, 'cause I want one of your cigars later. But, Sam, it was that same sprightly enthusiasm that landed us with the newbies. Now pipe down."

Almost like a puppy that had been kicked, Sam frowned.

Bryony chuckled and raked her dark hanging tresses to one side, looking like a sexy lingerie model once the motion was complete. "No offense taken, beautiful," she purred, to which everyone - including Santana - frowned. "But even if Sam hadn't unlocked the gym, I'm sure that Big Brother would've found some other way to toss Kurt and I in here."

It wasn't long before a grave look descended over Brittany's features. "You totally just tried to flirt with my wife. Keep your compliments to yourself."

Bending to stretch her hamstrings, Bryony laughed the blonde's accusation off. "If that was flirting, then sex is a handshake. Your wife's very beautiful. What?" She shrugged. "I'm not allowed to highlight it?"

Santana cocked an eyebrow.

"Stay away from my Sanny!"

Bryony nodded one of those slow patronizing nods. "Well I'll be sure to toss a cigar at her later. That way, there's no risk of our hands brushing." She winked Brittany's way, which Santana wasn't particularly amused by.

However, the latina kept her mouth shut. She'd bleed the Italian woman for all the cigars in China first, and _then _she'd strike.

"On a serious note though, Brittany, I hold a great amount of respect for marriage. I'd never pervert the sanctity of it. No! It's to be taken seriously, which is why," Bryony said, tossing Rachel a glance, "I've turned down a number of proposals in my life, isn't that right Rach?"

In response to the searing dig, Rachel merely tightened her ponytail, and readied herself for the grind that was sure to follow once the competition began.

Beside the determined brunette, however, Quinn was discovering that she just... couldn't let the hostile little remark go.

She'd narrowed unimpressed eyes at Rachel's antagonistic ex, and fought the urge to say something.

But to no avail.

"I thought we agreed that we were all adults in here, and that we're gonna act like it?" she asked, an unmistakable bite to her tone.

"Excuse me, but who are you again?" Bryony snapped, almost as though she'd been banking on the hazel-eyed blonde getting froggy. "Oh right! You're the broad who's known Rach for all of five days," she jibed, all pretense gone.

All vitriol present.

Quinn chuckled huskily, like she was a karate master who was getting ready to toy with a white belt student. "Let's... talk about periods of time then, Bryony." She cleared her throat, frowning as if to recall important historical facts, complete with dates and locations. "You must've gotten with Rachel when you were both in your teens, since she's only twenty-five. You were with her for six years - practically watched her grow into a woman. Six years, yet... you still couldn't get it right. So if two plus two equals four, then that equals: the time we've known each other's got shit all to do with anything."

Santana smirked, strangely sort of impressed.

Next to her, Will gulped. He'd never before seen this side of the usually sweet hazel-eyed blonde, who was kind enough to cook for and clean up after the entire house.

"Well that went s-south fast," Tina muttered out the corner of her mouth, sort of like a ventriloquist.

Stumped, Bryony had faltered for a moment. But, like the duration of time that Rachel and Quinn had known one another, it was fleeting. "Yeah, well you try making it work with a diva, who -"

"Oh why don't you just shut the hell up, Bryony!" Rachel suddenly yelled, stomping her foot. "Now can we all just get this freaking competition underway please? Thank you!" she huffed.

"That's a fabulous idea. Britt promised me sexy times later. So let's get this shit on the road already."

"Whoa! Dude, do I get to watch?" Puck requested.

"Eww," Kurt spewed.

"Not quite the term I would've used, Kurt. But close enough," Santana quipped.

"I can already picture the damage that I'm gonna cause if I win," Quinn purred in Bryony's direction, who shot the blonde back the most nice-nasty smile.

A gentle hand fell to Quinn's shoulder in that moment.

Rachel's hand.

Quinn wound her sharp tongue in, and peered down at the brunette.

"Please, in future just... please just ignore her," Rachel whispered, something vaguely pleading in her harrowed brown eyes.

Sensing the desperation behind the plea, the blonde blinked, bowing her head in a respectful nod a second later. "Of course."

Before anything else could be said, Bryony took it upon herself to chirp, "In other news, I'm so happy that this is an endurance comp. What better bunch of people to spend my night with?" She then succinctly deadpanned and nodded towards the podium. "Now who's gonna read the instructions?"

Emma, who was still dressed in normal attire, cleared her throat. "Since I can't take part in the competition, I'll read it," she offered, stepping up to collect the instructional card from the podium.

Quinn took the time to studiously eye the colossal apparatus, which resembled a simple yet broad steel scaffolding structure, with an impossibly thick cushioned mat splayed out beneath it.

Presumably for when houseguests began to drop like flies, she guessed...

"Okay everyone, listen up!" Emma began, peering down at the words on instructional card. "As outgoing Head Of Household, Emma will not be permitted to take part in the competition," she read, nodding because she'd already known that.

Well everybody had known it, since it was common knowledge that the last HOH couldn't compete for the Head Of Household position again the following week.

"This competition is called, 'Hanging In The Balance,'" she stated. "Each houseguest will mount one of the twelve poles, which will continuously sway up to the left and then up to the right. Houseguests are not permitted to kneel or sit down on the ledges at the bottom of the poles. You must stand at all times. If any part of your body touches the mat below, you will be eliminated from the competition. The last houseguest to remain on their pole will be crowned the new Head Of Household." Emma cleared her throat again, and added: "But don't forget to be careful, houseguests, because the weather is frightful."

Before anybody's forehead could pinch into a frown that was worthy of such a riddle, the large black metal structure sprang a leak, loudly pelting fine but plentiful jets of rain down into the mat below.

"I wanted to get my wife wet. But not like this," Santana commented. Dryly.

"So that's what the riddle was talking about," Sam noted, sort of intrigued by the raining contraption. "Come on, let's go check it out."

"You've g-gotta be k-kidding me!" Tina stammered, already feeling the chill off of the water. She hugged herself close to Rachel, clinging to her last hope of warmth. "It's so l-loud!"

Wincing every time a particularly large rain drop thudded to the mat, Rachel took both Quinn and Tina's hands, and began to approach the apparatus. "It'll be okay, guys. The rain will probably stop and start in intervals. By law, and in terms of medical safety, they can't shower us with ice water for extended periods of time."

"Thank God for that!" Quinn gasped out, already shivering as she lifted herself up onto the thick puddling mat, and claimed the pole in between Rachel and Tina.

"One of u-us three h-h-have to w-win this," Tina stuttered. Her teeth chattered as the freezing water hammered the exposed flesh of her forearms, and seeped through her shirt. "It's the only way to know t-that we'll all be s-safe."

Quinn slung her dripping fringe to the side, just barely managing to get out, "I know. Or at the l-least, we've all got to outlast Bryony."

Seemingly lost in her tunnel of focus, Rachel didn't say a thing...

Still stood on the artificial grass, Jacob shrugged at the wet scene. "I needed to wash my afro anyway." He looked to Bryony, who - just like the rest of the women in the house - he assumed would never talk to him on the outside world. "You ready for this?" he asked her.

"As Rachel knows!" Bryony said over the loud patter. "I'm always up for getting wet."

With that said, she grinned, and jogged off to claim a pole.

The pole next to Rachel's, actually.

Jacob smirked and crossed his fingers. It was clear to him that Bryony was still holding a torch for Rachel, regardless of how bright or dim its light flickered. Every one of her bitter quips - they'd all been ploys to get Rachel's attention. The nerdy little man could only hope that if - for whatever reason - The Gruesome Foursome couldn't pull out a win between one another, Bryony would. That way he wouldn't be at such a risk of going up on the block if Tina blabbed about his play to evict Emma.

Because all that Bryony seemed to care about was punishing Rachel and Quinn, which was more than fine by Jacob if it meant surviving another week…

"Come on everyone," Will encouraged, motioning for the houseguests who were lingering around to enter the rain, and mount a pole. "The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get to our warm beds."

Twenty minutes later, the competition was in full... swing.

Save the steady mechanical swooshing of the poles, from left to right, a pin could be heard if dropped.

Quinn sighed, reaffirming her two-handed grip around her dripping pole as it repeatedly tilted her entire frame at a forty-five degree angle. From side to side.

She could only imagine how easy the task at hand must've looked to those who were watching live footage of the house online. But it was anything but easy. Her arms were beginning to ache from the manner with which they were hoisted, and there was a numbness growing in her fingertips from how cold the last bout of rain had been. Which, of course, made it damn near impossible for her to clutch the pole tightly as it slanted body.

"Whoever dreamed this competition up needs therapy," she murmured miserably.

Rachel managed a small smile, because grumpy soaked-through Quinn was so adorable that she didn't know what to do with herself.

One of the other houseguests said something, but the brunette hadn't been listening. She was lost in watching the grumpy blonde carefully reposition her sneakers on her pole's slippery cylindrical ledges - almost forgetting about the fact that she was now living with her ex again.

Almost forgetting.

She could feel Bryony's eyes on her.

"How are you doing over there, Tina?" Rachel called past Quinn.

"F-Fine. J-Just a little numb. But I'm g-good."

In the process of winking at the shivering Asian woman, Rachel caught Quinn's eye.

"You okay?" the blonde mouthed.

"Yes. You?" the shorter woman mouthed back.

Indicative of how cold she was, Quinn gave a stiff nod. "Only because I need to be," she answered, her words graduating to a whisper. "I'd really like a letter from Beth, and some pictures. I miss her like crazy. So that's my main incentive to win this, and keeping us three," she said, nodding towards Tina, "safe."

"It's a good thing that my motion sickness hasn't decided to act up," Bryony suddenly announced, glancing up at her swaying pole. "Remember that drive up to that cabin resort during the last few breaths of our relationship, Rachel? I got motion sickness in the car and threw up. You were so attentive... at least until we got to the cabin, and they had to kick us out of our room because -"

"That's enough!" Rachel barked, her sneakers squeaking against the wet ledges as she almost lost her footing from the ferocity of her growl. "If this wasn't being broadcast to the world, I'd be inclined to simply tune you out. But it is being broadcast to the world, and I'm not going to have you airing the details of our awful relationship, only to be rejected from future Broadway roles because casting directors think they know things about me that they shouldn't!"

"_Because_," Bryony said, picking right back up where she'd left off, "you flew off the handle and attacked me. Remember? I do. I remember that black eye and busted lip. My work colleagues were asking about it for days."

Most of the houseguests kept quiet, just wanting to stay out of the ugliness that was happening right before their eyes.

Except for Quinn, that is, who was biting her tongue so hard, she was tasting blood!

Out of nowhere, the patio door slid open.

Emma merrily poked her head out. "Just checking to see if anybody's fallen off yet. Guess not," she chirped, oblivious to what she'd just interrupted. "I'm baking some late night cookies to celebrate my still being here, so you have those to look forward to. Those of you that aren't on slop anyway."

"Thank you. We **all** can't wait," Will took it upon himself to answer. Because no one else had seemed like they were going to.

"Well I'll leave you all too it then."

As soon as the redhead retreated back into the house and slid the door shut, Rachel pounced.

"How convenient that you neglect to mention how high you were, and that _that's_ why you emptied your stomach in my new car! How very convenient that in your haste to paint me as a violent monster, you neglect to mention that in your inebriated state, you struck me first and I was forced to defend myself!"

"Well, you know what they say 'bout that hot Italian blood," Santana jeered to herself, deciding that it was time to step in. "Rachel! Bryony!" she raised her voice. "If I'd wanted to see a couple of dysfunctional lesbos, I'd watch Jerry Springer. Now I'm tryna keep a clear focused mind, 'cause apparently that helps with this competition shit. That means I don't wanna hear any more of your bullshit! So Bryony, kindly shut the fuck up before **I** force **you** to defend **yourself**."

"Go San!" Brittany cheered, happily swaying on her pole. "Did I mention that that's my wife?" she bragged.

Though she never thought she would, Quinn smiled. Go San indeed…

Bryony had just been about to say something back to the latina, when a frosty gust blustered out of the small holes in the scaffolding's frame, wafting over everyone like a tornado.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Kurt whined, the overwhelming gust blowing his lips to one side.

Puck rubbed the tip of his crimson nose, and sniffled. He was certain that he was catching a cold.

"It's, l-like… really really cold up here dude," Sam stuttered.

Jacob shivered, his knees trembling into one another. "J-Just keep holding o-on, Sam."

"I-I don't know if I can do this for m-much longer, guys," Artie confessed, out of the blue.

Jacob's gaze shot towards the wilting young man. "C-Come on, Artie. Y-You were telling me about h-how you thought you'd never walk again, a-after that accident. Use y-your legs proudly, and hang on!"

Artie groaned hopelessly.

"You w-were in an accident?" Tina inquired.

When she received but a groan in response, Will looked her way and suggested, "I'd maybe a-ask him about it once this competition is over, T-Tina."

She nodded, and hung on through her numb grip.

An hour and a half had passed before Artie became the first houseguest to release his pole. He'd thudded down into the mat with a weighty clunk that had jaunted the other houseguests, who'd all previously been lulled into an almost zombie-like state, thanks to the fact that they could barely feel their limbs.

To the tune of their placating praises regarding his noble efforts, he'd lazed there on the mat, just waiting for his arms and legs to decide that they were going to work again, before scurrying off to have a scalding hot shower.

And now he was sat on one of the garden's benches, offering words of encouragement to the remaining houseguests, as he nursed a hot cup of cocoa between his palms. "You guys are true warriors," he said, wincing as another bout of rain started up.

Only this time, it wasn't rain that fell. It was these moderately sized foam cubes, with sharp enough corners to make Kurt snap his head to the side, in order to avoid being poked in the eye.

Quinn's strategy was different though. She was keeping her head bowed, to prevent the cubes from doing any damage to her face.

Bryony noticed the blonde's strategy and mimicked it, because fuck if she was going to drop before Quinn did. "Looking a little worse for wear there, Rach," she taunted.

Rachel slowly lifted her head up from where it had been hanging in a similar fashion to Quinn's. She looked at the woman who she'd wasted six years with, and scoffed. "You might as well just jump now, because you and I both know me well enough to know that Barbra Streisand herself couldn't get me to come down from here."

"Even if she flashed me her breasts, Barbra Streisand couldn't get me to come down from here either," Quinn mused, in this comedically casual kind of way. She brought her shoulder up to her cheek to fend off a few cubes, and said, "It's me, Tina, Rachel, Santana, and Brittany against you, Bryony. And I'm pretty sure we'd be able to get Sam to put you up on the block if he were to win too. So if you think you can outlast all of us, then you just stay _exactly_ where you are."

A beautiful victorious silence played out between the three women, wherein Rachel looked to the blonde and mouthed, "you're amazing."

"Duh," Quinn mouthed back, winking as she swayed. "And here was me thinking that you were supposed to be the brains, and that I was supposed to be the blonde."

In that moment, Puck suddenly exploded with a sneeze. Not that anybody batted an eyelid, since the houseguests had sort of gotten used to it by now.

What was surprising, however, was the hard thud that immediately followed.

"Puck! No!" Jacob wailed out, before he could stop himself.

Santana studiously glanced between the two men, smirking as the identity of two possible Gruesome Foursome members made itself clear to her. "Hmmm. Interesting," she hummed to herself.

Down below, Puck angrily thumped the mat with his fist, small particles of water splashing up at him as a result. "Dude, I can't fuckin' believe that a sneeze was the end of Puckzilla!"

"Nice t-try though, Puck," Tina offered.

"Yeah, you lasted for a respectable amount of time," Will put in, managing a smile through his pained grimace.

"Look on the bright side; now you can go and take a nice hot shower," Artie pointed out around a sip of cocoa.

"Yeah yeah," Puck grumbled.

He didn't want a nice hot shower. He wanted to know that he was safe this week, especially with his vote to evict Emma looming over his head. And now the only person who could ensure that safety had been eliminated.

Himself.

He shook out his limbs and crawled down off of the sodden mat. "Good luck guys," he mumbled up at the remaining houseguests, before heading off into the house to get cleaned up.

Jacob's shoulders slumped. The Gruesome Foursome were now two members down. He glanced across at Sam.

It was just the two of them now…

It was almost as though now that two people had fallen, it was acceptable for others to do so too.

Around the three hour mark, both Kurt and Will fell from their poles. Kurt citing that the iced over ledges had tossed him off. Will claiming that his arms and legs were dead.

Not too long after their demise, Tina gave out, much to Rachel and Quinn's discouragement.

"I'm s-sorry guys. I-I just couldn't h-hold on any longer," she explained, unable to look at her two allies.

"Don't apologize. This is tough," Rachel replied, grimacing as she grabbed her swaying pole even tighter and carefully adjusted her stance.

"Well that's one of your clan down," Bryony chuckled. "I feel like I could do this _all_ night. I'm good to go into the early hours of the morning, if need be," she boasted, taping her fingernails against her pole.

Rachel and Quinn glanced at one another, both swallowing slowly. They'd already been at it for three long tedious hours, and the muscles in their legs were fatigued beyond anything that they'd ever experienced before.

Neither knew how much longer they could go on for. They just knew that they wouldn't be able to last until the early hours of the morning.

"She's got to be bluffing," Rachel mouthed.

"Let's hope so," Quinn whispered.

A moment later, Jacob fell. His glasses flew off of his face with the impact with which he slammed into the mat. "Just great!" he bitterly hissed, knowing that his only hope now lay with Sam and Bryony.

The worn out blonde surfer sighed. "Good job though, dude," he said.

"Alright, so let's make some sort of deal," Santana suggested, now that Jacob had been eliminated. "I'm tired, I'm grouchy, and if I don't get down from here, I'm gonna puke. So guys," she said, looking to the remaining houseguests, "I wanna know that me and Britt are safe if we jump down."

Rachel and Quinn nodded. Albeit stiltedly.

Though Quinn was the one to speak up: "Of course. I think we all know who my target's gonna be if I win. But you should hold on for just a while longer?" she said, sending a pointed nod in Bryony's direction.

The exhausted latina rolled her eyes. "I could've sworn that I just said I was gonna puke, if I didn't get down from here, doll face."

The hazel-eyed blonde sighed, but nodded. "Okay. You're safe from me if you both jump."

"That goes for me too," Rachel reluctantly agreed. "Though I'd prefer it if you were to hold on for a while longer. But if you can't…" She shrugged grimly.

Brittany smiled. "Thanks. But how about you Sam? If you win, are you gonna put us up?"

The only remaining man slowly shook his head. "Dude, I don't know. I, like, have nothing against you. But things can change like _that_ in here."

Santana took on a pensive look, and then suggested, "how about if either me or Britt win HOH next week, or the week after that, we won't put you up for two of our HOH runs each? So that's potentially four weeks safety."

Bryony rolled her eyes. "All of this just to get me out of the house? And there was me thinking that I was one of those people who went through life making friends easily."

Santana yawned, ignoring the Italian woman. "Sam, what do you say? We got a deal or not?"

In a moment of sheer tension, all eyes gravitated towards the muscular man, who nodded after a moment or two.

"Deal," he said.

"Finally," the latina purred, taking Brittany's hand as they both released their poles and fell to their freedom.

Though the thud had been expected, it still sent a flinch ricocheting though Bryony, who was – despite her tall tales – beginning to lose faith in her ability to hold on. She glanced to her side, surveying both Rachel and Quinn's body language.

They seemed just as worn out as she did. So she held on, wincing when another bout of rain broke free over them.

Five hours into the competition. Sam wasn't sure that he'd ever be the same again. His blood vessels had constricted to maximum capacity, and the numbness was now creeping up his forearms.

Without a word, he released his pole, and heaped to the mat.

Quinn, Bryony, and Rachel all hitched out a gasp as they peered down at the fallen man.

Then looked at each other.

"Guess this is it then," Bryony remarked, spitting a few droplets of water from her lips. "Rach, you a-always did have a flare for all things dramatic. I bet you're loving t-this. _But_!" she stressed, "it's not as dramatic a tale as y-you think, because I was never gonna p-put you or Quinn up on the block. I told you I was here for t-the money."

"Like I'm s-stupid enough to b-believe that," Rachel stammered, feeling like she was Rose in Titanic at this point.

Bryony sighed, staying quiet, save her trembling exhalations of breath.

"Getting d-desperate, Bryony?" Quinn mocked.

"I don't do d-desperate, honey. Though R-Rachel clearly does."

"I'll s-say," the blonde shot back, looking her adversary up and down pointedly.

"P-Please ignore her, Quinn. Save your energy."

The shivering blonde managed to scrape together a smile, and shoot it at the quivering brunette. "See? That's why you're t-the brains and I'm the blonde," she murmured fondly.

Bryony sighed again, this time much heavier. The burn in her muscles was almost as colossal as the apparatus that she was strung up on.

Through the patio door's glass panel, she could see the houseguests who were still awake puttering around inside of the house. The way that the light shined – how dry it looked. How homely. Bryony had never yearned for such simple comforts in her life...

"I just want you t-two to know that there's still the Veto competition, a-and that if you p-put me up on the block, I'm g-going to veto myself **off** of the block," she spat, before soaring down into the mat.

Of all the thuds, Rachel felt that that one had rang the most satisfying.

The exhausted yet elated brunette didn't even think twice about it. She just released her pole and allowed gravity to do its work, landing beside her disgruntled ex-girlfriend.

Leaning up on one elbow, she smirked up at Quinn. "Congrats on being the new Head Of Household!" she announced. "Now you'll g-get to read your letter from home to me. I-I can't wait." She winked up at the speechless blinking blonde, and chuckled as the woman beside her scowled.

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**;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Just a bit of a filler this chapter, I feel. I go away soon, and I wanted to get something out before then, because I won't have any internet connection. I seriously don't know how I'll cope! I'm actually going to have to talk to other human beings :O**

**Dgronison, I think that more of Rachel and Bryony's back story will come out during the story, for sure ;)**

**For those that were unsure, Bryony is pronounced Brian-ee. Or Brye-o-knee. So you can make sure you are reading it correctly in your heads ; ) Sorry for the confusion.**

**I'd like to thank those that have said that they don't review often, for signing in and letting me know what they think of the fic. I'd also like to thank everyone who reviews every chapter. How sweet of you. And I'd also like to thank everybody who falls somewhere in-between : )**

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Contingent upon who you were to ask, day six in the Big Brother house was going well.

When most of the houseguests had awoken, some two hours ago, the handful that had drifted off to sleep before the conclusion of last night's Head Of Household competition, had raced one another upstairs, still sporting bed hair and a little sleep in their eye. Scandalized giggles on their lips. That is, the ones who'd awoken to see that both Rachel and Quinn were missing from their beds anyway.

Like children peeking into their parents' bedroom on Christmas morning, Tina, Kurt, and Brittany had quietly pushed on the HOH room's door, and poked their heads inside, only to be met with a sight that was worthy of a warmed palm over the heart, and a hushed, 'awww.'

And of course, with Kurt around, news of the new sleeping arrangement had traveled swiftly.

In fact, houseguests were still talking about it...

"Oh, you should've seen t-them. All curled up together in t-the HOH bed, like president and f-first lady," Tina gushed over her bowl of slop. "I've n-never seen anything more cute. And that's not even mentioning the p-pictures of Quinn and her daughter. If o-only I'd looked like that at thirteen."

"Yes, though I would've preferred to have seen two hot beefy men snuggling up there, Quinn and Rachel were a pretty close second. You know," Kurt chimed, frivolously waving his hand through the air, "minus the two hot beefy men snuggling part." His eyebrows then slowly furrowed. "And what's more, Quinn's daughter seems to have... impeccable fashion sense for one so young. Give it a couple of years, and she'll be after my spot in the fashion industry."

"Seriously, I f-feel like one of those fangirling s-shippers you always see on Tumblr when it comes to Quinn and Rach - and n-now Beth too!" Tina continued to gush.

"Dude, you should've seen them coming in from the comp last night," Sam said, smiling back on the memory as he carefully took a knife into his sandwich. "They were dripping wet, and probably freezing their butts off. But like, Quinn held Rachel's head in place - like this - and wouldn't quit kissing her cheek! It was totally cute." Glancing around, the surfer suddenly lowered his voice and added, "Bryony was pissed though. Like, stomping through the house and everything. She's definitely gonna bring it for the Veto comp if she gets to play in it."

"Of c-course she'll get t-to play in it. Quinn's definitely gonna nominate her. The two nominees a-and the HOH always get to play for the Veto without fail," Tina pointed out, all too happy to be talking to the handsome surfer. "Or have y-you never watched p-previous seasons of the show?"

Sam smirked. "Sure have. But, like, what if Quinn doesn't nominate her? What if the plan is to backdoor Bryony instead?"

Tina fell silent, pondering the possibility that Quinn was planning to backdoor Rachel's antagonistic ex.

For various different reasons, it was risky - this backdooring business. It was a well-known strategic technique in the Big Brother game, which involved nominating two pawns instead of the real target, so that the real target would be robbed of their guaranteed chance to play in the Veto competition. Subsequently being robbed of the chance to veto themselves off of the block. Under the Head Of Household's instruction, the houseguest to win the Power Of Veto would then save one of the pawns, leaving the HOH to replace the saved houseguest with... the real target.

Bryony in this case.

"No, I don't think she'll g-get backdoored," Tina concluded. "Quinn w-wouldn't risk it, 'cause whoever w-wins the POV might decide not to use it. Then we'll b-be stuck with Bryony for another week, and one of t-the pawns will go home."

"You guys are _seriously_ making my head hurt," Kurt commented. "Listen honey, the only type of _backdoor_ that I'm interested in hearing about is the kind that lives between two butt cheeks."

Sam erupted in a spluttering chuckle.

And Tina didn't think that she'd even seen anything so dorky, yet so attractive.

"Who won HOH last night, so I can worry about goin' up on the block as I eat my breakfast?" Puck suddenly mumbled, shuffling into the living area like a zombie. He sniffled and sat down on the kitchen stool that neighbored Tina's, pulling the thick blue blanket that draped his bulky shoulders tighter around himself.

Sam frowned as he looked the mohawk-sporting man up and down. "Uh... Quinn won."

Puck's eyebrows arched. "Dude, that's actually... not a bad outcome. I'm happy for her."

"Like, what happened to you bro?"

"He's getting a cold," Emma interjected, sweeping into the kitchen. "Kept many of us awake with his sneezing, last night. Well," the lady-like redhead said, as she turned one of the cooker's rings on, "I'm not going to risk getting infected. You, Puck, are going to eat my special chicken broth, and I don't want to hear another word about it!"

"Fuck, if I'd known I was gonna get special treatment from the house hottie, I would've gotten sick sooner."

In response to the compliment, Emma's lips twitched, a light shade of pink coloring her cheeks. "I better get... started," she murmured, rolling up her sleeves.

Sam, Kurt, and Tina all looked at each other as if to question whether or not they'd just stepped into The Twilight Zone...

Up in the Head of Household room - which Big Brother had decked out, whilst Quinn had showered warmth back into her flesh the night before - all was quiet. Except for the occasional ruffle of the Egyptian silk sheets, and Rachel's slumber-induced wheezing, anyway.

Quinn had stirred five minutes ago. She'd spent nearly all five of those minutes basking in the room's plush aesthetics - marveling at how Big Brother had taken heed of what she'd told them on her audition tape, regarding her dream decor. Even down to the wall stenciling of the electric guitar, which she found to be incredibly sexy, if not a tidbit tacky.

The swanky en suite, the basket full of her favorite snacks, the privacy, the power. Well... those things were great. But what charmed her the most were the framed pictures of her daughter, and the letter that was safely folded up in the bedside drawer, yet to be read.

Yet to be cherished.

The blonde gently chuckled and rolled her eyes at herself, because she could only imagine the bumbling mess that she was going to become once she started to read it. Rachel, who was snuggled into her side, expelling warm even breaths into her chest, would probably -

"Bryony," came a sudden murmur.

Startled out of her imagination, Quinn peered down at the body that was heaped on top of her own, arching an eyebrow at the off-hand utterance.

"Bryony..." quietly sounded out once again.

This time much raspier. Much more under duress.

At the sound of that name, leaving Rachel's lips in such a sensual manner, the grin that had lingered over from Quinn's chuckle slowly faded. She frowned and shifted against the headboard, affording herself a better view of the shorter woman's face, which seemed to be pinched in slight grimace.

"Rachel," she whispered, wanting to swoop in and save the brunette from whatever parallel reality she was currently trapped in. "Wake up, sleepy one."

The coaxing blonde suddenly gasped, tensing up as she felt a warm hand gliding down her back beneath the covers, only ceasing its excursion once it was filled with a bulging handful of... her butt.

"Bryony!" again licked the silence, and in the form of a fully-fledged groan this time.

Quinn's hand darted down, her slender fingers securing themselves around the small hand that had taken to squeezing her ass in sporadic intervals. "Rachel!" she called, firmly.

That seemed to do the trick, because the brunette's dusky eyelids flickered open to reveal two big frowning brown eyes. "W-What happened?" she croaked, attempting to sit up, only to realize that she was lying on top of Quinn, and that her hand was-

Her eyes widened!

She instantly tore her hand away, and glanced up into unreadable hazel eyes. "Jesus, Mary, and Barbra! I'm **so** sorry!" she groaned, her face contorting into a harrowing grimace as she pulled out of the blonde's warmth. "Please forgive me! I-I had no idea that -"

"Rachel," Quinn drawled, tucking a few strands of hair behind the frenzied woman's ear, "It's not that big of a deal. I knew the dangers when I invited you to sleep up here with me last night," she teased, before raising an impish yet imploring eyebrow. "Tell me; what were you dreaming about?"

Rachel gulped, her mouth drying of all saliva. "Dreaming a-about?"

"Uh huh. What were you dreaming about? Tell me."

"Well..." In favor of studying the wrinkles that marred the gold sheets, Rachel sat up and avoided the blonde's persistent gaze like her life depended on it, later petting her wild hair down at the back. "I-I must look awful right now," she chuckled, only half joking.

Quinn cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes, because Rachel was coming through loud and clear...

"So, do you dream about Bryony a lot?" she decided to just ask.

Rachel sighed, accepting that she'd been found out. "What did I say whilst I was asleep?" she mumbled, rubbing sleep's lingering heaviness from her eye.

Quinn reached for the sheets, pulled them up to her chin, and scooted further down the mattress until she was lying on her side, peering up at Rachel. She extended a finger out and playfully bopped the adorable brunette's nose, before saying, "the reason that I offered to have you come sleep up here was so that you wouldn't have to share a bedroom with Bryony. And the first word that I hear out of your mouth, this morning, is the name that belongs to she who shall not be named."

The fast blushing brunette sighed, her eyelids closing with the exhalation, like this was the last thing that she wanted to have to deal with right now.

"Why, Rachel, you've desecrated the sanctity of my kingdom!" Quinn goofed, casting her hand out over the luxurious space. "And shall hereby be punished. Do what I'm paying you for and take her to the stocks, guards!" she ordered, snapping her fingers at the empty archway that led into the plush en suite. "Hurry, or you'll all be joining her!"

Despite her chagrin, Rachel opened her eyes. She glanced towards the silly blonde, and chortled fondly. "Evidently the power's already gone to your head."

Beside her, Quinn shrugged. "Are you still attracted to her?" she suddenly asked.

"Quinn, that is merely -"

"I'd understand," the blonde interrupted, lifting her hands before her own face to inspect her cuticles. "Despite the sewage tunnel that appears to be her personality, she's very very beautiful, Rach. So," she said, rolling onto her back and peering up at the ceiling, "if you were having an x-rated dream about her, whilst... cuddling up to me -"

Rachel sunk within her palms, groaning.

"Come out from behind your hands, adorable one," the hazel-eyed blonde whispered.

"Quinn, please believe me when I tell you that even with the two new additions to the house, still nobody - male or female - can hold a candle to you!"

"Thank you," Quinn said, winking at the shorter woman. "But you didn't answer my question."

Deciding that it was time to act like she was twenty-five, instead of six, Rachel allowed her hands to fall away from her face. From there she squared her jaw and prepared her tongue to facilitate the truth: "I can appreciate how it must look, Quinn - me dreaming about her at **all**. But the answer to your question is no. I am no longer attracted to Bryony, and I haven't been in quite some time."

"Okay."

"My best guess is that she's just on the brain, at the moment, due to how shocked and disgruntled I remain to be over her unwanted presence," the brunette further explained.

Quinn nodded, running her knuckle along Rachel's collarbone. "Alright," she said.

In the minutes that followed, an easy chit-chat settled between the two women, wherein they mused over the happy photographs that adorned numerous surfaces in the room.

Indeed, the chit-chat flowed easily.

At least, it did until Rachel decided that Quinn deserved full disclosure, regarding the dream situation. "Not to drag things all the way back here. But did it occur to you that maybe I wasn't having an x-rated dream about her - that just _maybe _she and I were fighting?" she confessed.

"You grabbed my butt."

Rachel looked to the sheets.

"And groaned Bryony," Quinn added. "What was I supposed to think?"

"You were supposed to think that for my non-violent nature during waking hours, I sure as hell _squeezed _the shit out of her throat during that dream."

Quinn snorted, the entire bed trembling as she laughed her lungs into exhaustion. "Oh my God!" she giggled, gasping for air as she pressed a hand to her rolling chest. "It has just become clear to me that I sort of love it when you swear? You do it in this really proper way - it's hilarious!"

"Well don't be fooled. I was born and raised in New York, which means that I can open up a colorful can of curse words whenever the need may arise."

Quinn ruffled her blonde strands, amusement still lingering in her eyes and in her cheeks.

Though it was slowly dying down, in favor of something with a little more weight.

"I'm glad I saved Beth's letter for today, instead of reading it last night," she mused, turning her head so that her gaze would meet Rachel's. "I can't wait to see if she mentions you in it, actually."

Rachel's previously twinkling eyes popped in sheer panic, because... what if the beautiful teenager, who graced all of the photos in the room, hated her?

What if Beth saw her as some poon-chasing Jew, whose sole goal in life was to get into her mother's panties?

What if Beth was less liberal than her mother, and was shocked and disgusted by Quinn's less than heterosexual antics in the house?

What if?

"Oh my God. Calm down. I can hear your worry from here!" Quinn stepped in, having whispered in the hopes of its gentle timbre soothing the other woman. "I mean, it's _ridiculously _sweet that you care what she thinks -"

"Of course I do! She's an important part of your life!" Rachel rambled.

"But would you save yourself the nervous breakdown already?" Quinn chuckled out. "Look, if Beth hates you, she'd never be so rude as to put it in the letter, knowing that you're the closest person to me in here. She'd just ignore your existence altogether, like any other Fabray." The blonde winked, running the back of her hand across Rachel's thigh beneath the covers.

But Rachel was much too far gone to even register the gentle flirtatious touch.

Instead she frowned, and internally berated herself for being so pushy about the letter in the first place. "Perhaps... I was a little overzealous before, when I just assumed that you'd read your letter to me. Maybe only you should read it, like Emma did with hers. After all, it is a personal thing. You should be able to enjoy it without someone looking over your shoulder, and failing to grasp all of the inside jokes."

Following those words, Quinn's hand stopped its descent down the brunette's smooth silken thigh, retreating altogether a moment later. "I just had my hand on your bare thigh," she highlighted, arching an eyebrow.

Rachel's forehead pinched, but for an entirely different reason this time. "You did?" she asked, blinking as though she was questioning the very mattress beneath her.

"Never mind," Quinn said, shaking her head. "You've had a lot to deal with lately, Rach, and you're obviously really concerned about the letter. So how about I read it alone, and if I'm okay with you knowing all of the embarrassing things that I am sure Beth has outed me for, then I'll read it to you too?"

Rachel blew out a long breath and allowed herself a full smile, complete with dimples and everything. "Okay. That sounds like a wonderful plan. I want you to be able to immerse yourself in Beth's words, without having to worry about a second presence in the room. Now then!" she chimed, out of nowhere, "would you like to go downstairs and lord your HOH status over the likes of Bryony and whoever your second nominee is going to be?"

Just then there was a knock at the door.

Both Rachel and Quinn looked at one another, before the blonde smirked and reached for the small remote control. She pointed it at the flat screen TV, and flickered through footage of the living area, the garden, and the laundry room, until live footage of the landing filled the screen.

There she saw Tina patiently waiting just on the other side of the door.

"Oh, it's just Tina," Quinn said, so causally that her boastful delight in the nifty technology was clear. "Come in!" she sang.

Laughter gently jerked Rachel's shoulders around against the headboard. "You, Quinn, are _such_ a show off!"

"What?" The hazel-eyed blonde hunched her shoulder up to her cheek and batted her eyelashes. "I've moved up in the world, which you were sweet enough to help me do."

It was at that point – when Rachel grinned, and Quinn bobbed her tongue out at her – that Tina ushered into the room.

"Nice to see t-that you guys are finally awake," she chirped, passing a picture of Quinn and Beth pulling outrageous faces at one another. The stammering woman sat down at the foot of the bed and poked Rachel's toe, just because. "Everyone's eager t-to congratulate you, Quinn. Except for Bryony, who's w-working out all of her f-frustrations on the shoulder press machine. It s-sounds like she's f-fighting with it… and winning."

Rachel sighed. She was sick of hearing her ex's name already. "Have you given any thought to who you're going to nominate alongside she who shall not be named, Quinn?" she asked, in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

The new Head Of Household took on a pensive look, before she nodded to herself. "I was thinking of Jacob?" Her hazel eyes glided from Rachel's face to Tina's, feeling for their responses.

"That reminds me!" Tina exclaimed, before Rachel could offer any input, "I've b-been meaning to f-fill you guys in a-about Jacob."

Quinn looked at Rachel, and Rachel looked at Quinn.

And then they both looked at Tina, simultaneously urging: "Shoot!"

* * *

**;)**


	16. Chapter 16

**I'm ridiculous lol. Can't believe I managed to squeeze this out. I leave tomorrow morning, so no updates during the time that I'm away sadly :( But I can't wait to get back and talk to you guys some more, through these characters of course ;)**

**HighOnFaberry, what were you thanking me for? For being born? Hahahaha! :P**

**Sarah, thanks for the reassurance. Glad that at least some of you were not bored by the last chapter ;)**

**Dgronison, lol why are you nervous to learn about Rachel and Bryony's past? I hope that the supposed fluff in this chapter can erase those feelings of nervousness. For a while at least : )**

**Original-Badass, Jacob to go over Bryony? Really? Jacob dun fucked up, huh? lol. Ps: I love your French!**

**To the guest reviewer, the plan is to continue this story until they get out of the house. But I may do it the way you suggested. Either way we'll see the characters outside of the house at some point :D I'm touched that you enjoy characters other than Faberry. I know a lot of people skip parts in stories that don't concern Faberry, so that is such a compliment!**

* * *

It was at three-fifty in the afternoon that Will had gone into the diary room.

As it stood, one full hour later, the older man was still nowhere to be found, and the rest of the houseguests were beginning to get suspicious...

"He probably went into the diary room and keeled over from being, like, a gazillion years old," Brittany suggested, looking to others like she was actually expecting to be taken seriously. "Oooh, and maybe Big Bro are now trying to figure out what to do with the body, before it stinks the place out."

"What?" Santana shot at the group of perplexed faces. "It could totally happen. Now all of you nod, so I know I haven't just wasted my breath," she said, casually rolling her hand through the air, as if to urge the other houseguests into compliance.

Not that anybody nodded.

Not that the latina cared. She was much too busy enjoying the sensation of the sun's glare on her skin.

"Maybe Will's doing some sort of task?" Rachel proposed, from where she lay sunbathing on a towel, next to Brittany and Santana.

"Maybe," Artie replied, gracefully swanning back and forth in the pool. "If he passes it, I hope we win some music, or something. Of all my home comforts, I miss music the most."

"Fuck yes! Some music would be hot right about now. I haven't danced in days," Brittany agreed. She extended her long legs up into the air with the distinguished flair of a dancer.

"Aaaah. Some music would be absolutely fabulous," Rachel practically drooled, allowing the idea to roll through her being. For it, she suddenly felt as though she was somewhere else. "I truly miss being at home, in my apartment, just relaxing with my Broadway pals whilst Zero 7 plays in the background. I've yet to invite anybody over who hasn't ordered all of their albums from Amazon before leaving my place."

"No way!" Quinn shrieked, almost toppling out of the hammock thanks to the fervor of it all. She quickly drove a foot into the ground, steadying herself. "You listen to Zero 7?" she asked.

Rachel shot up. "_You _listen to Zero 7?" she shrieked back, hardly able to believe that this woman was so perfect. "It's a great challenge to locate people who even know who they are, much less people who've unearthed the sheer bliss that is their music! How did you come to discover them? I'd like to know the story, from beginning to end!" The brunette squirmed about her towel, making herself more comfortable as she peered expectantly at the gorgeous blonde wonder.

Quinn chuckled and lay back into the strong comfy netting of the hammock. "Well, we like to joke and say that Beth's a bit of an old soul, because instead of being into mainstream stuff, like all of her friends, her favorite type of music is like this really obscure, downtempo, chilled stuff?" she explained, frowning in fear of maybe describing it wrong. "She always listens to it whilst studying. Anyway, at first I was heartbroken over not getting to share my love for rock music with her. Then I was worried, because I thought she was depressed - you know, listening to such deep stuff at such a young age. But the more I listened, the more I understood that Beth wasn't listening to it because she was sad. But that she loved it because she thought it was beautiful. I'll often go into her room to tell her that dinner's ready, and I'll just freeze in the doorway, completely stricken by what I'm hearing. I've been introduced to some really gorgeous songs that way, Likufanele by Zero 7 being one of them."

"Well we asked for the autobiographical version, and by God that's what we got," Santana jeered.

But beside her, Brittany was smiling. Already, she loved the teenager whose pictures she'd seen upstairs in the HOH room. "Now I totally wanna come live with you and Beth!"

"You and Rachel both," Santana quipped, tongue in cheek.

Ignoring the latina, Quinn made a show of waving the blue-eyed blonde over. "Move your things right on in. I could do with help paying the bills. A free sitter would be nice too."

"Likufanele," Rachel suddenly whispered, calling all eyes back towards her. "Oh my God." The brunette began to fan herself, really quickly and with both hands. "Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God," she whispered.

Santana side-eyed the overly dramatic little brunette.

Though, _apparently_, she was not as overly dramatic as Brittany, who'd darted up from her towel, looking like she was getting ready to perform the Heimlich maneuver on Rachel if need be. "Like, are you choking on something?"

"No, I'm not choking! But thank you for your concern," Rachel chimed, instantly breaking character. "Though if I were to choke, it would certainly add a more profound dimension to my immense delight over the fact that both Quinn _and _Beth have heard Likufanele - and like it!" The slack-jawed brunette took her gaze over the blonde in question, and blurted, "I've always wanted to make love whilst Likufanele plays softly in the background."

Quinn's entire face seized up, like that precarious moment before a sneeze.

Only, her expression hadn't seized to facilitate a sneeze.

Toppling sideways out of the hammock, all the way down to the ground, she fell forward into her palm, giggling uncontrollably.

Rachel frowned at such the extravagant reaction, glancing around as though she'd missed something. "What?"

Santana tapped the teetering on offended brunette's bronzed shoulder, and whispered, "see? Now you've gone and lost her, with your fucked up kinky little fantasies."

Unable to hold her chuckle, Brittany rolled over and buried her face into her wife's neck. "You're hilarious," she sniggered. "It's why I married you."

"I know, baby. I know."

Rachel swiftly pouted. "Well thanks for making me feel stupid guys."

A moment later she looked to Artie, eyebrows rising as she silently urged him to validate her perfectly valid and not in any way funny fantasy.

But, "I'm just gonna carry on pretending like I'm not listening to this conversation," was all that she got out of him.

Feeling utterly hopeless, at this point, she threw her hands up and let them flop back down into her lap. "As Finn would say, 'I hate you _all_!'"

Once Quinn had gathered herself up off of the ground, she plonked her frame back down into the hammock, which was still swaying from the previous turbulence that it had experienced.

The blonde blew out a resetting breath, shook out her limbs, and wiped the corners of her moist eyes. "Wow," she said, clearing her throat.

"That was quite the topple. Are you okay? Nothing broken?" Rachel asked, almost too politely.

"Nothing's broken. But I suspect that that could all change in the next... thirty seconds."

"Well now that you seem to have regained your faculties, Quinn, would you care to regale me with what was so funny?" Rachel urged. "I mean, Likufanele is a terribly beautiful and romantic song. The melodies. That glorious crescendo! Perfect for making love to."

"Oooh, bitch got some splainin' to do now," Santana hyped.

Quinn grinned one of her fully-fledged sunny grins. "Rachel, you're so adorable -"

"Flattery will get you everywhere. But not in this case."

Quinn snorted.

"Now kindly tell me why you were laughing at my fantasy, so that I can decide whether or not I'm going to bite you whilst you sleep tonight."

"Ooh, do what she says," Brittany advised.

Still giggling, the hazel-eyed blonde shrugged. "Rachel, I wasn't laughing at your fantasy - which, by the way, just may come true one day, because that song is _perfect _for sex..." she husked, winking. "I was laughing at the way you just blurted it out. It was funny. As well as being downright adorable, at times, your mannerisms can be very funny."

"Uh huh, you do realize that you and I are sharing a bed these days, and that you saying the word, 'sex,' in that tone is simply not acceptable, right Quinn?"

"Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex. Sex." Quinn paused, frowning as though she'd forgotten something. "Oh, that's it. Sex. Sex and... more sex." She blew out a long breath, and shook her limbs for the second time. "Ugh, I feel so much better now that that's out of my system. They call it the **sex** bug, did you guys know that?"

Santana sniggered at the blonde's juvenile antics.

Maybe Quinn was okay after all...

Rachel kept quiet, merely sitting on her towel in a daze of sorts. She more than realized that she'd only known of Quinn's existence for six days. But if they'd been outside of the Big Brother house, and Quinn had wanted to - Rachel was certain - she would've already slept with the blonde.

And most likely to Likufanele, with a romantic infusion of white and red rose petals peppered amongst the sheets...

But then again, if they'd met outside of the Big Brother house, they wouldn't have spent such copious amounts of time with each other, or gotten to know one another so well, thanks to work, other obligations, and sleeping in separate houses. Just the Big Brother game, alone, was designed to bring out the personality flaws in people, most of which didn't typically surface, in the outside world, until two people were comfortable with each other. Or when two people hated each other to the point that they were past caring.

Through her ruminating, Rachel suddenly realized...

Six days in the Big Brother house, and six days on the outside world were nothing even close to being the same thing!

"You guys would be so hot together. The white rose petals are a particularly hot idea," Brittany casually murmured, to which Rachel frowned deeply.

"H-How did you know what I was think-"

"_This is Big Brother_!" suddenly boomed, halting everybody throughout the house. "_Earlier this afternoon, Will came to the diary room to see a doctor. Upon further examination, Big Brother can now reveal that Will will not be returning to the house!_"

"That's one down. Ten more to go," Santana remarked, whilst everybody else sat there frozen in shock...

"When I said that he'd keeled over, I didn't actually want it to be true," Brittany said.

"This has gotta be one of Big Brother's mind fucks," Artie rationalized, shaking his head in refusal to be duped.

"Well if it is true that he is in poor health, it must be something to do with the grueling competition last night. I truly hope that he's alright," Rachel said, the worry evident in her voice. "He was only ever kind and respectful towards me."

Artie looked to the Head Of Household. "What do you think, Quinn?"

"I don't know why but I think he's genuinely gone," she answered, adhering to her gut feeling. "I wonder what's wrong with him."

Concern and confusion may have been all the rage out in the garden, but inside of the house Jacob was smirking. Not because he wished the older man any ill will. But because if Tina now blabbed about his plan to evict Emma, she'd have no one to back her up. The only other person that would back her up was now gone.

It would just be Jacob's word against Tina's.

Hardly batting an eyelid at Big Brother's jolting announcement, the nerdy little man moved his chess piece across the board, forcing a perplexed Sam into a checkmate.

But little did he know that Tina needed no back up.

Both Rachel and Quinn already believed the stammering woman's testimony, and were more than coming after him...

* * *

Some two hours later, the houseguests were still digesting the news about Will.

Since they had little else to do, they were all speculating and exchanging stories about his behavior towards the end, hoping to patch together a picture that would sate their need for answers.

As of yet, they hadn't come up with anything concrete.

They just knew that Will's memory wall picture, along with Finn's, now stared out over the living area, frozen over in Big Brother's signature shade of gray.

It was during this time that Quinn scurried on up to her room. The vast space greeted her with the sweet scent of the shampoo that Rachel had left clogging the en suite's shower drain, earlier.

She smiled fondly, sitting on the bed as she pulled Beth's letter - which she'd previously removed from the drawer - out from beneath her pillow. She carefully unfolded it, and ran her fingers over the unrefined scrawl that she treasured so much. The same unrefined scrawl that she'd helped to refine by guiding her daughter along through years of literacy homework.

Her already glassy eyes fell to the first line, and from there they leaked small salty droplets to the page.

"Oh my God, pull it together," Quinn told herself, chuckling through her tears. "You're not even halfway through yet, and you're already embarrassing yourself."

For the second time, the warmed blonde took her adoring gaze to the first line... and never took it away.

_Hi mom. Beth here, your almost fourteen-year-old clone ; ) Missing you more than it's cool for any teenager to miss their mom lol. And I love you lots and lots and lots! More than my music collection, which is driving aunt Frannie insane. She doesn't get it, which actually makes me love her a bit less. I think we need to take her off the Christmas gift list hehehe. She's helping me word this letter, so I couldn't be as harsh as I wanted lol._

_Anyway, if you're reading this that means you're Head Of Household. Congratulations Wonder Woman! You always get the job done, whether its getting bills paid, getting me the stuff I need for school trips, or yelling at the pizza guy until he gives us half of our money back. We're all really proud of you, and love you. Even little Blake, who cries every time I show him pics of you on my cell phone :D He'll never like his auntie Quinn. But we know he loves you, cuz who wouldn't? : )_

_By the way, this is me getting the soppy crap out of the way before I go off on you about Rachel!_

_PSYCHE!_

_Totally got your heart going, didn't I? Tehehehe ; ) _

_I knew you were really open but not this open! You'd totally be a hit in the gay bars. I just know it! Aunt Frannie's really shocked, but I spoke to Blaine on the phone and he said that she'll get over it. He's not shocked. But he thinks everyone's gay. Remember when he thought something was going on with me and Danielle? Craziness! I'll never compliment another girl's outfit around him again : / I saw your date with Rachel. OMG, how cuuuute! I really like how she treats you. You deserve it, and she knows it, and I love that ; ) America loves you both! I can see why Emma thought you were the secret couple. Can Rachel come to my birthday party if you're still friends when you get out of the house?_

_Onto the twenty-five thousand dollars that you won on the first night : O I want a car! I want a car now! That's all you're gonna hear when you get home. I know I can't drive but meh. Frannie wants a car too. Blaine wants you to pay off the mortgage on his shop for the next five years. But don't listen to any of us! Except for me. I want my car : )_

_PS: I really like Sam *blushes* Can he come to my birthday party too?_

_PSS: Miranda from the office got in touch. She said you're crazy but she wishes you the best._

_PSSS: Stop swearing so much. Hehehe. I know I should be watching censored daytime edits of the show, and I am. But you get bleeped out a lot. Hahaha. I love getting to tell you off without getting into trouble for it. But even more than that, I love YOU Wonder Woman! You're the best mom in the world. See you soon, or not ; ) xxxxxxxXxxxxxxx_

Well...

Quinn sat there, on pause, for the longest. She kept reading the letter over and over, going over certain parts, and fighting off her tears of happiness. She literally couldn't believe how lucky she was. Sure, life had handed her some shit sandwiches, and would probably continue to. But through it all, people who would always love and support her surrounded her.

The blonde had never felt so blessed.

And as naive as it may have sounded - even in her own head - she now had one more person that she felt she could rely on. Someone who was along for the Big Brother ride. Someone who she was sharing a bed with on television.

Indeed, Quinn truly felt blessed.

"If I wasn't determined to do well on this show before, I sure as hell am now," she murmured, feeling reinvigorated and strong, like she could take on anything.

And good, because as she switched on her flat screen TV and saw Rachel and Bryony arguing by the bathroom door, downstairs, she knew that she wasn't going to be able to keep from getting involved.

* * *

******If any of you care enough to google Likufanele, listen with headphones so you can hear that beautiful sub bass lol. Gorgeous song by one of my fav ever bands. **

**;)**


	17. Chapter 17

**Longest chapter yet. I hope that makes some of you happy. I also threw in something towards the end that will hopefully put a smile on your faces.**

**Mitre, this fic is based on the American version of Big Brother. But I have been taking little snippets of the UK one and complimenting stuff where I think it would fit, or bring clarification to the readers. Thank you for your comment.**

**Chloe, you check for updates every night? Awww. *blushes* As I am writing the Faberry, I often adopt a goofy smile too. So we are twins lol. I love you for your knowledge of Zero 7 ;) Loooove!**

**Original-badass, hello :) Thank you for the PM. It was the first thing that I read when I got back from my trip. Made me smile. Thank you. If you are going to keep complimenting me like that, we're going to have to get married, provided you are of age of course ;) I find myself laughing when Santana speaks to - or through - me too. I'd totally be her friend in real life! And call me dude all you want. I've always wanted a penis. Lol. So I bought one from Anne summers :P My apologies, I'm feeling reckless after having spent time with my friends in a foreign town.**

**Dgronison, thank you for another in-depth review ;) Very interesting to hear about your history with the name Bryony! I hadn't heard it until about seven years ago, and I really liked how different it was! You totally still have to use it for your child! Great name. I was bored of Will, so I figured that readers probably were too. So I figured I'd better do something with him lol... I don't have a face canon for Beth. There are so many on Tumblr, I wouldn't even know which one to choose from. You should whoever you think suits her voice in this story more : ) I love Beth! I love writing her too! Thanks for the well wishes. I enjoyed my trip a lot. It was sinfully good, which is right up my alley! I love Zero 7; you are welcome for the suggestion. The most popular or well-known Zero 7 song is perhaps Destiny. Sia just owns on it. It is an already fucking ridiculously beautiful song as it is. But that voice. Ugh! Look Up, I Have Seen, and Give It Away are amongst some of my favs. Rachel will tell you, because she has all of their albums :P**

**Nini, hey. I love a newcomer :) Please don't restrain yourself. I love it when people swear, especially when it is because they are passionate about something. You should create an account, and follow the fic. That way you will get an email alert when I post a new chapter. That is how it works on here, because the story is not yet complete ;) Thanks for the kind words. Mercedes and Mike Chang may or may not come into the fic. They didn't interest me enough to have them be houseguests. But when this story moves away from the BB house, they may be supporting characters.**

**JackilisFamo, another one who despises Jacob lol. You may enjoy this chapter then ;)**

**LikeNobodysWatching, aww, thank you for reviewing so many chapters at once. Your input was greatly appreciated :)**

**isamfab, that's an interesting opinion. Thanks for the input.**

**Sorry for the length of the A/N :/ lol.**

* * *

Unable to stomach viewing another moment of the argument that had ensued between Bryony and Rachel, Will removed his headphones, and looked his secret living quarters up and down, for what must have been the twenty-fifth time now.

His eyes still hadn't grown accustomed to the black and gold decor. Or the haunting posters on the walls, which were illustrated in this heavy, almost unhinged, scrawl that saw jagged black lines assemble to form the words, 'Power Corrupts!' and, 'Do What Thou Wilt!'

He had to wonder how he - of all the houseguests - had managed to land such a gig.

Well, he was already aware of the how, since Big Brother had called him to the diary room and explained what awaited him, earlier in the day. But his mind was still reaching out, grasping for that ever so elusive why.

After all, why would the American public vote _him _into such a position?

Had they granted him such power because they thought him fair? Because they knew that he'd do the right thing with it?

Will hoped so.

He also hoped that his decision to either assist or hinder certain houseguests, wouldn't affect his game once he returned to the main house.

As for what was going on in the main house...

"What's the big fucking deal?" Bryony barked at the bathroom door. "You're really gonna act like I've never washed my hands whilst you were peeing before? Well I'm sorry to tell you such shocking news, but I've already seen everything - licked it, tasted it, had my fingers inside of -"

"Go to hell, you despicable piece of trash!" Rachel lashed out, from beyond the door.

"What, afraid of getting turned on?" Bryony grunted, forcefully thrusting a sideward elbow into the wall. "I know you've finished in there! I heard you flush. Now let me in! I need to wash my fucking hands!"

"You could have washed your _fucking _hands," Rachel mocked, "in the kitchen sink! But no! You saw your opportunity to antagonize me, and you just couldn't pass it up, could you? Well now you can wait!"

"Yeah, I was really gonna use the kitchen sink - where the plates that we eat from go - to wash away the gunk from the spider that I just killed, wasn't I?"

"Go away! I don't want to deal with you right now! Or ever actually!"

"Oh grow up, Rachel!"

"How rich, especially coming from you!"

"Are you gonna come out and let me in?"

"No!"

Sighing to the point that her shoulders slumped, Bryony leaned her forehead into the bathroom door.

Was this really what her long and colorful relationship with Rachel had come to - arguing, for the world to see, over such trivial bullshit?

Apparently so...

It used to be that when they'd verbally throw down, there was substance behind it. Passion. _Something _to fight over, like the time that Rachel had staged an intervention and tried to get Bryony to go to rehab.

For all the time that she spent trying to forget, Bryony remembered that evening as though it was seared across the insides of her eyelids, in florescent gold. She remembered how it had begun with softly spoken words of reassurance, and promises of a better life...

How it had quickly descended into an argument; lovers stabbing one another with the cruelest words imaginable - broken door handles, and ugly holes in the walls.

She'd never forget Rachel's big beautiful quivering brown eyes, as they'd leaked into the carpet and pleaded with her to take the help that was on offer.

The model-esque Italian woman would always look back on the incident, and know that her outright refusal to accept help, that night, had been the conception of the cancer that'd eaten into her relationship with her high school sweetheart.

The dismal withering of her relationship with the woman who would **always **own her heart.

"Rachel..."

"I tried to be civil with you when you arrived, last night, and you behaved like a prized asshole! Well we can play this game until you leave, if that's what you'd like!"

Bryony sighed again, this time a lot heavier. "Rachel, I... I'm sorry," she suddenly found herself murmuring. "Is that what you need to hear?"

Upon the drafty silence, Bryony lifted her slender hand and pressed it flat to the door, needing to be as close to her beautiful little diva as possible. "I... I'm sorry for all of it - choosing drugs over us, not coming home for weeks on end, not calling, making you worry when you were supposed to be focused on performing," she said, closing her eyes as though that would shut out her demons. "I think... I know that a part of you blames yourself - thinks that you failed. Thinks that you weren't enough. But you didn't fail... I did. I'll never forget how you fought for us. _And _I can't believe I just said all of that on TV. But..." Bryony shrugged, her voice cracking as she asked: "Say something?"

When the bathroom door gently clicked open, some two minutes later, Bryony startled and stepped back, silent as she peered into indecipherable brown eyes.

"Say something," she repeated, soon after.

Rachel tucked her hair behind her ear and looked to the floor. "I've been waiting to hear those words for... so long," she uttered. "I-I didn't think that I ever would."

"I know." Bryony chuckled sadly. Emptily. "Even after you were outrageous enough to think that proposing would get me to stop using, and I was a jerk about it, a-and you broke up with me, I still wasn't - I couldn't say those things to you. I couldn't say sorry. I was trying to get you to take me back, and I couldn't tell you the things that you needed to hear. Perhaps the only things that would've gotten you to take me back..."

"Where was this person when you arrived last night? Huh?" Rachel asked, glancing up into sullen yet adoring dusky green eyes. "I'm actually a little embarrassed, because everybody in here now thinks that last night's display was the person that I dated for six years. What would your mother think?"

"She'd think that it was difficult for me - seeing you with Quinn," came the rather snappish answer. "No more difficult than what I put you through - I know that. But still, you know how I get when... I'm hurting."

Sucking in a breath, Rachel gave a tiny nod, because she did know. She knew enough to lift her hand and gently palm the vulnerable woman's cheek. "Bryony, I appreciate you telling me the things that you've just told me. You've given me the tools to put some personal things to rest. But," she stressed, allowing her hand to slip away, "you don't belong in my life anymore. Too much has gone on between us. I'm moving on, and..." The brunette shrugged a shoulder. "If I play my cards right, maybe Quinn and I could have something great."

Bryony looked off, her jaw visibly pulsing.

"Please understand that my intention is not to be cruel when I say that. I just want you to know that that's where I am. I'm moving on, and I'd like to do so in an uninhibited fashion. Because of that, I'm going to do everything within my power to see that you leave this house as soon as possible."

Bryony raked her fingers back through her dark tresses, and smirked bitterly. "Well it looks like you have a fight on your hands, because I'm going to do everything within my power to stick around."

Rachel sighed, but nodded nevertheless. "I can only respect that, just as you have to respect that I'm moving on."

"Moving onto what - Quinn? She's a lonely straight woman, who just enjoys the attention! You're an experiment to her!"

"If that is so, then I am more than willing to be her test subject," Rachel replied, strong in her convictions. "And if she's a lonely straight woman, who merely enjoys the attention, then I am more than happy to be the one that she chooses to make her feel special. If things do progress between us, and she breaks my heart, well then it won't be the first time that I've put myself out there only to have my heart crushed. You have to let this go. For your own sake."

Bryony's throat constricted, her nostrils quivering as she fought off an overwhelming sadness. An overwhelming feeling of finality, loss, frustration, and regret.

"What if I can't?" she croaked, after a while.

Rachel's features bent to facilitate a sad smile. "Being in here with me isn't going to help, is it?" she offered softly.

"I already told you; I'm here for the money."

"Okay. Alright," Rachel whispered, gracious enough to play along. "Then be here for the money. Everybody else is. Just as long as you're not here to harm my budding bond with Quinn."

Bryony scoffed, her pursed lips twitching as though words knocked just behind them. But she didn't speak a word.

And that was when Rachel leaned up and gently embraced her, holding her close so that their hearts could say their goodbyes.

Only Quinn, who'd been watching the intimate exchange from the end of the hallway, wasn't so warmed...

In other parts of the house, Tina was taking a pair of tweezers to her right eyebrow. She grimaced at her reflection and made quick work of the unruly hair, hissing as it came loose.

"What a strange day so far," Kurt commented upon the comfortable silence. "Will vanished, even though some of his clothes are still here, Emma and Puck appear to be - dare I say it - flirting, and we haven't had the food competition yet. Something's brewing," he gravely foretold, raking product back through his soft tufts of coiffed brown hair, before inspecting his efforts in the vanity mirror.

"At least Will's gonna get t-to see his wife now. He was missing her a-a lot."

"Whilst I hope that Will's okay, I can't say that I'll miss him," Jacob jumped in, something bitter about his tone. "He was awfully long-winded, and wasn't integrating with the group as well as he -"

"Jacob! Can I talk to you for a second?"

All efforts to beautify suddenly ceased, and all eyes gravitated towards the owner of the somewhat demanding voice.

Quinn.

With the acknowledgment of her presence, the energy that populated the small open space seemed to shift, something steely crackling in the air.

Jacob adjusted his glasses, sitting up just that little bit straighter. He then put on a smile that wasn't entirely natural and asked, "what would you like to talk to me about?"

The hazel-eyed blonde arched an eyebrow at the duplicitous little man. "If I'd wanted to discuss it with everyone, I wouldn't have made it a point to ask you if I could talk to you, now would I?"

Kurt released a juvenile snigger, to which Tina nudged him in the side.

"Sure!" Jacob quickly conceded, standing. "Anything for our beautiful HOH."

Ignoring the nauseating flattery altogether, Quinn span on her heel, and led Jacob into the cabana room, where they settled on the bed-seat type contraption.

A couple of the room's luxuriously over-sized cushions rested between them, which Quinn swiftly batted to the side, because fuck if this little twerp was going to have even a speck of dust to hide behind.

Eyeing the now pig-eared cushions - some of which had crashed into the wall and sloped down pitifully - Jacob's heart began to gallop. "... So Quinn," he did his best to chirp, "I believe this is the first time that you and I have had a one-to-one conversation in here. Could it be that you've suddenly realized how handsome I am?"

"I know that you were one of the three mystery votes," Quinn said, getting straight to the point. "If you cough up the other two names, I just may nominate Bryony and one of them, this week, instead of Bryony and... you."

Accepting that the time had come, the nerdy little man cleared his throat. "Well then, I suppose there's no point in lying. In fact," he said, "I think that full disclosure would be the best route to take in this situation."

"Ah, you're a smart smart man," Quinn quipped.

Adopting on an air of woe, Jacob bowed his head. "There's an all male alliance of four in the house," he confessed.

"No shit," Quinn scoffed.

Jacob lifted his gaze.

He could only blink as he realized that Quinn - and God knows who else - had already known about The Gruesome Foursome.

He'd been hoping to disclose the existence of the all male alliance, to make it seem as though he was even willing to reveal truths that he wasn't obligated to, on top of the truths that the stunning blonde had requested.

But now, realizing that Quinn had already known about The Gruesome Foursome, Jacob knew that he looked sneaky and duplicitous, which was bad. Very bad, especially when one was talking to the Head Of Household.

"Listen Quinn -"

"I'd like the names of the other three alliance members please."

Gulping his aborted sentence down, Jacob quickly nodded. "Sam, Puck, and Artie. And myself, of course."

"Sam?" Quinn repeated, her brow shooting up towards her hairline. "_And _Puck?" she added, scoffing as she shook her head incredulously. "If you tell me that _Sam _voted to evict Emma, I just might shit myself."

"No." Jacob shook his head in the negative. "The three votes were myself, Artie, and Puck. Sam didn't know anything about it. But!" he emphasized, slinging a halting finger up, "Artie conceived of the entire plan. We tried to talk him out of it - told him that it was a terrible idea. But he figured that if we kept Finn around, we could float along for another week -"

"Whilst the bigger players went after him, and him them," Quinn stated.

"Quite simply, yes."

After a tense few beats of silence, the blonde hummed a simple, "okay."

"Okay?"

"I suddenly seem to have an echo, and," Quinn drawled, "I'm not sure that I like it. Surely my voice isn't that deep."

Simply because he knew no other means through which to cope with his glaring discomfort, Jacob chuckled, and rather awkwardly. "You and I should talk more often. I feel like we could be of great use to each other in the grand scheme of the game, mostly because nobody would ever suspect us of working together."

"Maybe."

"Great. Are we done here, or..."

Quinn stood up and walked towards the door, where she smiled and almost gallantly held it open for the sneaky little man.

It was only when Jacob was halfway out of the room, that she ran her fingertip along her chin and chimed, "and if I talk to Artie, and Puck about this - they'll corroborate your story?"

Jacob halted in his tracks. "If they don't, it'll be because they're mad that I outed everything."

Quinn said nothing. She merely ran the pad of her index finger back and forth her bottom lip, muted glints of sadistic amusement shimmering over her eyes, as she leaned against the door frame, and waited for the short man to excuse himself.

Down in the house's secret living quarters, Will was somewhat reeling...

Had he really allowed himself to be manipulated by such an obvious manipulator, such as Jacob?

The older man removed his headphones, resting them on the table that housed the TV monitor through which he'd been watching his fellow houseguests. He stood up from the small but comfortable couch, and headed for the stairs that led up to the diary room.

He'd reached a decision. Or two...

"_Hello Will. What has brought you to the diary room_?" Big Brother asked.

"I've reached my first two decisions," Will answered, lapping one leg over the other as he casually tapped his fingers against the diary room chair's armrest.

"_And which decisions are they_?"

"Firstly, America wanted me to decide who should be on slop, this week, and who should be permitted to enjoy luxury food." Will suddenly frowned. "For the luxury food - could you just clarify my position regarding Quinn or Santana?"

"_As Quinn is the Head Of Household, she will enjoy a luxury food diet. As Santana is the owner of a summer-long slop pass, she will also enjoy a luxury food diet,_" Big Brother clarified. "_Please list the four houseguests who you have chosen to join them in luxury_."

"Uh, thank you for clearing that up," Will chuckled. "Since I've been - I guess you could call it - hiding out down here, I've seen some very interesting things of my fellow houseguests. Some things that I liked, and some things that I didn't. So," he said, bringing his hands together in a firm one-syllable clap, as if to get the show on the road, "based upon what I've seen, I'd like to list Tina, Kurt, Brittany, and Rachel."

"_By your failure to select the following houseguests, Bryony, Puck, Emma, Jacob, Artie, and Sam, they will all endure slop for the week_. _Are you happy with your decision?_"

Will gave a tight smile, because he couldn't grasp how anyone could ever be happy about subjecting a human being to slop. "Not particularly _happy_. But this is Big Bother, and I understand that this is all a part of the game."

"_The decisions that you have yet to make are as follows: the houseguest who will receive thirty-thousand dollars. The houseguest who will receive a phone call from home. The houseguest who will be excluded from this week's Power Of Veto competition. And the houseguest who will be excluded from the next two Head Of Household competitions._"

Will brought his hands together in his lap, steepling his fingers. "Yes, well I have now come to a decision regarding who I think should be excluded from this week's Power Of Veto competition."

"_Which houseguest have you decided to exclude_?"

"I would like to exclude Jacob from this week's POV competition please."

"_What brings you to such a decision_?" Big Brother probed.

"Firstly, I was under the impression that Jacob and I got along. But it turns out that he thinks I'm long-winded, which is fine. But I didn't appreciate the tone that he employed when he said it. Secondly, I've chosen Jacob due to the fact that when he approached me with the idea that the house should keep Finn, he did so by attempting to manipulate and appeal to me through my values. I.e: the, 'everybody deserves a second chance. Even Finn,' pitch, which I - embarrassingly enough - ate right up," Will explained, later pausing to clear his throat. "And after watching the conversation between him and Quinn, just now, I now know that he wanted me to vote Emma out for his own selfish reasons - that it hadn't a thing to do with giving Finn a second chance. He was also a part of a secret alliance. That is why I'm selecting Jacob."

"_Due to your decision, Jacob will not participate in this week's Power Of Veto competition. Is there anything else that you would like to add?"_

"Well," Will began, never one to shy away from the opportunity to make a speech, "I can only guess that Quinn will be nominating both Jacob and Bryony. So the strategy behind my decision is that if Jacob can't play for the Veto, he can't take himself off of the block, which is a good thing, as I feel that it would be best for the house if he goes home."

* * *

"After you fell out of the hammock, laughing at me, I feel like we didn't see each other all that much today. How was your first day back on luxury food?" Rachel chirped around her toothbrush.

"Great."

In response to the unenthusiastic monosyllable, Rachel frowned into the oval mirror that hung over the lavish sink...

Perhaps another topic would evoke a little more passion from her gorgeous blonde bedmate.

"So did you read your letter from Beth, Quinn?"

"Yeah."

...

Rachel's frown only deepened.

She rinsed away the last remnants of toothpaste that clung to her lips, and hung her toothbrush up beside Quinn's, before poking her head around the archway. "Is everything okay?" she asked, growing antsier by the second. "Beth didn't say anything awful about me, d-did she?"

From where she lay on her side, under the silk sheets, Quinn scooted down the bed and snuggled into her pillow. "She's forbidden me from swearing, so I'm afraid that I can't repeat what she wrote about you."

With a flip of the light switch, Rachel plunged the en suite into darkness, and headed for the bed, which was cast in the soft light of the lamp that sat over on the chest of drawers.

"I haven't yet learned your current facial expression well enough to know whether or not you're messing with me. But I can only hope that you are," she sort of griped, peeling back the sheets. She climbed in beside the blonde, who'd taken to peering at her with an unnerving intensity. "Okay, what's going on?" Rachel decided to just ask.

Quinn stretched her leg out, wriggling her toes against the brunette's.

"I would ask you why you have such cold toes, Quinn. But there appears to be another type of draft that is originating from your side of the bed. So tell me what is bothering you, so that I may - for the second consecutive night - fall asleep to the thrum of your heartbeat in my right ear."

"I want to spoon tonight," Quinn said.

Despite the palpable atmosphere, Rachel giggled. "I thought you'd never ask. I can only guess that this means that Beth gave me her seal of approval. Big spoon or little spoon?"

"Big spoon. But I warn you; I've never been the big spoon before, because all the men that I've ever dated were big burly guys."

Rachel turned over, and snuggled her back into Quinn's warm supple front. "I'm sure you'll be fantastic at it. Though, you have to put your arm around me, Quinn. That's big spooning one-oh-one," she instructed, her petite shoulders trembling with another quiet giggle.

A moment later, there was some minute shuffling, and then a pale arm draped itself over her midriff, pulling her in even closer.

Rachel grinned as she immersed herself in the sensation of Quinn's frame melding around her own, later releasing a content sigh when the blonde placed her chin on her shoulder. "I like this," she murmured, merrily repositioning her head about her pillow.

"I interrogated Jacob before we all dug into Emma's chicken broth," Quinn suddenly announced, though her voice was quiet in the brunette's ear.

"Yeah? I haven't spoken to him since Tina told us what he's been up to - he must have known that something was up. Anyway, what did the little troublemaker say, dear?"

Quinn snorted out a chuckle. "Did you just call me dear?"

The sound of the blonde's mirth - it set Rachel at ease, and compelled her to think that she'd been reading too much into Quinn's recent monosyllabic answers. Perhaps the stunning woman was just tired, or quite possibly missing her daughter even more after reading the letter.

"Yes I did," Rachel answered soon after. "Do you have a problem with that, dear?"

"Besides the fact that it makes me feel like I'm fifty, when I'm twenty-eight, no. No problem," Quinn quipped. "No problem at all."

"Smart ass."

"Pervert," Quinn shot back.

"Need I remind you that I'd only have to lean down a little, in order for me to be able to bite your arm?"

"You do realize that your obsession with biting me, is only further indication of just what a pervert you are, don't you?"

Rachel giggled. "Possibly," she whispered, as though her penchant for biting was supposed to be a secret. "But it's only because you're so scrumptious that I feel like the next logical step is to take a bite out of you."

"Hmmm. Scrumptious," Quinn mused. "I guess I don't do too badly for a lonely straight woman, who just enjoys the attention, huh?"

Rachel tensed up, her content smile waning. She quickly turned around, breaking Quinn's clasp around her midriff in the process. "I never once said that!" she defended herself. "Were you spying on me?"

"Of course not. I came downstairs to fend off the dark lord, because I saw that you and what's her face were arguing on the TV," Quinn calmly explained, almost patronizing in her tone.

"Whilst I hold a great amount of appreciation for your concern, I'm not comfortable with knowing that you were listening in on that conversation," Rachel snapped, to which Quinn merely peered at her. "What else did you hear?"

"Well what I _didn't _hear, was you telling her that I'm not some lonely straight woman who just enjoys the attention, which probably means that some part of you considers it to be true."

Sighing, Rachel ran her fingers through her hair.

"I've been single for four and a half years, Rachel. Sure, it can get a little lonely - not having someone to snuggle with, or just be a goof with. Or even have loud uninhibited sex with. But I do just fine. I'm not some desperate Dianna, who'll jump on the first person to wave a stick at her - or in your case, I guess it'd be a bush. Not a stick."

"I never said that you were, Quinn," Rachel sighed, the innuendo sailing straight over her head.

"You didn't tell what's her name that I wasn't either which, again, must mean that you think it's true," Quinn was quick to answer.

"Listen, my only crime is perhaps not knowing why you like me back," Rachel admitted. "When I'm on stage, performing, I transform into something special. I'm the champagne of the Broadway world." She huffed and shifted onto her side properly. "But when I'm not on stage, I'm just Rachel. There's little spectacular about me, and I just... I have a hard time figuring out why someone like you would be interested in me, especially when you've only ever been interested in men prior. It's not so much that I think you're desperate, than it is me wondering what's so special about me that I've seemingly managed to make you consider pursuing something with another woman. Bryony knew that, and was trying to play on it."

Quinn eyed the het-up little brunette in what became a lingering moment, before smirking.

Then she spoke. "For one, you're beautiful in this really unique exotic kind of way, and you have these amazing abs. Sexy, if you will. Guess the yoga's paying off."

In spite of her mood, Rachel blushed all the way down to her neck, and quickly scrambled to pull the sheets up to her nose. "Quinn," she quietly whined.

"Let's not forget that you make me laugh, or that you share an obscured musical taste in common with not only me, but with Beth too," the blonde continued on. "Your inexplicably soft hair and skin are very appealing to my fingertips, in a way that I've never had the pleasure of experiencing before. You don't take any shit, which is always a fine attribute. Then there's that big smart brain of yours, and your deeply warming thoughtfulness. Not to mention our ridiculous chemistry. Oh, and bonus points for once giving the dark lord a black eye and a fat lip. Lastly, I want to put you in my pocket and keep you. What's not to go gay for?" she asked, attempting to peel the sheet away from the flustered little woman's face.

After a moment of back and forth tugging, Rachel eventually released the sheets and allowed Quinn - as well as the cameras - an uninhibited view of her face.

"Well I guess when you put it like that, my insecurities are made to seem unwarranted, and completely unfounded," the brunette murmured down at her hands.

"Now say you're sorry for ever doubting yourself in the first place," Quinn urged, having nodded every few syllables.

Rachel smiled warmly. "No, because if I hadn't doubted myself, I wouldn't have gotten to hear such wonderful things. Thank you. I... don't quite know what to say."

"Well, I would've told you all those things eventually. And you don't have to say anything, except that you're looking into ways to clone pocket-sized miniatures of yourself."

"I must warn you that all they'd do is eat, sleep, poop, and sing in your pocket," Rachel gently chuckled out. "You'd need to provide a miniature cleaning lady to go along with them."

"See? Already branching the business out. Must be that big smart brain."

Rachel gently nudged the goofy warm mass beside her, and shuffled closer.

It was in that moment that Quinn jerked the covers over both their heads, thrusting them into their own little world of shadows.

"What are you doing?" Rachel mused, giggling as memories of hiding out under the duvet, as a child, struck her.

"I don't want anybody who watches the show to steal my technique," Quinn replied, as if it should be obvious.

"What tech -"

Before the brunette knew what was happening, the softest pair of lips that her flesh had ever known, were brushing over her own.

Her heart kicked up the immediate rhythm of her arousal, only worsening when Quinn pressed forward and gently bit her bottom lip, smirking into it a moment later.

Well, of course, that was it...

The fire had officially been ignited.

Rachel palmed Quinn's cheek, and surged at the blonde's lips, licking them, and biting them, and kissing them. "Mmm," she groaned, her core humming something moist with each languid stroke of Quinn's tongue against her own.

For the next three minutes or so, the two women tasted one another, learning each other's sounds, and rhythms, and chaste yet yearning inclinations of the hips.

Neither could believe that they were doing such a thing on TV.

Not that that tempered their sensual fervor...

"Mmm. You're entirely too good at that," Rachel whispered, having reluctantly decided to pull away. "So good that we must stop. I don't want, 'has had sex in the Big Brother house,' on my résumé."

"It'd certainly be a conversation starter though, wouldn't it?" Quinn husked, nearing the warmth of her lips towards the brunette's cheek, so that she could press a sweet kiss to it. She then whipped the covers away, and grinned at just how hooded Rachel's eyes had become. "You look like you just had an orgasm," she teased.

"You know, you may not be too far off there Quinn," Rachel said, blowing out a long shaky breath.

"I'm hardly any better off. That was nice. You're a very sensual kisser," Quinn told her. She ran her hand down Rachel's hip. "Maybe we can take each other for another spin sometime."

"I'll need to recover from this one first."

Quinn laughed, the tendons in her neck dancing beneath her creamy flesh.

Once she'd recovered, she mused, "I was telling you about Jacob before we melted into one another, wasn't I?"

Finally having calmed herself down, somewhat, Rachel hummed in the affirmative, because that was what she'd been reduced to - mere grunts and other nonsensical sounds...

* * *

**; )**


End file.
